Little Call

A little call,
Out of place,
Out of time.

To ask if you’re okay.
A weekend wondering.
Playing the moment in my mind,
Over and over in my mind.
Seeing you from afar,
Unable to help,
To see,
To call out.

And again to forgetting.
A single message.
I hide the reply.
You call.
I, wanting but not.
Relieves me to hear you’re well.

The little call,
A new start.
A little call.

Another storyesque poem, reminder of a text and a call I made, a start, a good return. But at the time was full of reluctance and worry. But most of all care, care for someone I lost. But no matter how much I hated them. I loved them. Only hating was the way to try to forget.

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