Hang on to the Telephone

I hang on to the telephone.
The wire wrapped around my hand.
There's something in the tone
of the talk we just had.

The sound of your breath -
it left a mark in my brain.
Echoes of your voice
corrupt my train of thought.

I can't leave,
you might still come back.
You could call and retract
what you said.

The black vines keep climbing,
they strangle me,
binding us together,
whether I want to or not.
I scramble to untie the knot.

I hear it ring again, and
I hang on to the telephone.

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