Sand Paper Poem by Megan Tucker

Sorry to interupt this phone call,

but I need you now before I fall,

into an equation I can’t solve.

Mixed up letters and numbers,

unmade beds and rolling thunder,

dead asleep in the deepest slumber.

Its raining misery,

not all knights are knights of chivarly.

The ticking of the clock overwelming the room from the silence,

this house is so empty.

Can you pick up the phone?

I’m all alone in our lovely home.

This bed is made up on your side,

you’ll eventually wash up from the ocean’s tide.

We’ll just give it time,

and I’ll lay here waiting for you all damn night.

Knowing your not coming home,

just laying and waiting all alone.

Why?

Because they call this love,

rough like sandpaper and calm as a dove.

But first I must confess,

I’m becoming a mess.

She’s never coming home,

she’s never coming back.

I’ve fell into this daze where I can’t face the facts,

These pillows are all I know.

Sleep all day,

sleep all night.

This heartache is hard to fight.

I find myself waiting,

hesitating every phone call

Trying to catch signal down this empty hall

but her voicemail box is full.