In A Voicemail Poem by Faith Wood

I recieved your voicemail with open arms
At least it was a means to hear your voice
I miss the way it stroked my every nerve
I miss the way you could change me
with your perspicacious demeanor

We live in the depths of cracks
hiding out until someone notices us
And I know that's where you feel you belong,
but I think it's time you use your advice-
Brush yourself off and get out

I can feel the faintest touch of your fingertips
yearning for a piece of my grip
But your fear of longing is stunting your growth
I want you to write with your eyes up and down my skin
Just whatever you do, don't tale them off me