One Missed Call Poem by Balambal Suryanarayanan

Octogenarian tootsies that mount the stairs
Trembling breaths, and choke ensnares
The veins poppin', tattoo your corium
And fear shaded yer countenance to match with niobium
The fingers that struggle to clasp and fold
Run across the railings with despair untold
Clutchin' the device, he handed you once
Strugglin' to comprehend why thy calls took to silence
Crossing my door, you stand where you are
Bokettoing them, and rubbing some scars
With tears that fill up the sockets void of light
Whimperin' and fearing the turns of his unannounced flight
You twist my knob pushing my ears a far
Summing the bitterness of a truth I knew, of her disbar
Hanging on to my goose bumped manus
The irises take a glimpse for my cellular with plainness
With a heart falling apart, you bring up your head
Words unsent, yet I get everything you said
Broken to give in, or to take
I stay there tranquil, and flood excuses to make
You shake me in, and cry out loud
This pandemic knew not to break his proud
You drop into my arms, like the child you once were
Pleading me to get it, and make that call of love and care
They shatter me well, and decimate me in
And the words, those words struggle to utter a sin
I bring myself up, to try and lie
Howbeit all that springs out is a sigh
Crippled to assay, to shatter a mother's heart
The silence hangs, paralysed to thwart
Those hoary arms, strengthless wobble
Snappin' me right, to emit a garble
Transmogrifying me to an eccedentesiast
I give her a fallacious hope to last
That the ingrate would call
Sometime for fall
The ground shifts with uttering fibs
Knocking me in, right through the ribs
She smiles to the light at the end of the dern
While my lies gallop, and twist and churn
You come again, as Selene slumbers
With an analysis paralysis for the accident numbers
The place where he worked, burnt and blew
Under the pressure, cooked to stew
The nerves make a butterfly stroke
Worrying for her dear bloke
She begs to be let known
Of what happened to him, in that zone
I lie through my trembling teeth, that the call shalt come
With toggling worries, ruth to sum
Eventide falls, and days run on
Dates vanish, and months bygone
'I'm good', his DM flashed
And smile falls just the way they crashed
Fingers that could bring itself to press send, unabashed
Couldn't run through to scroll contacts, and hit call to the mother he trashed
She waits to her heels, eyeing my phone
And that's when I lose it, and his respect dethrone
Those snivels, ye walls do ye hear?
Those afflictions, O floors, could ye sear?
Those bruises in her soul, that lay right there
O cruel human, could ye get any fair?
The food that stops in her pipe
Waiting for that man to cradle and wipe
She caresses the device once, before she makes her bed
For one missed call, from the child she missed
The call never came, as the phone knew well
It would never come, it whispered, till you send your soul to sell