Static

It was a cold and biting night
As I donned my plastic sandals
And ventured into the bite
With a fire in my heart

One heated with my own wrong
Furnished with the fuel
Of a thousand unsaid apologies, long
Burning inside of me.

I flipped open the phone;
She picked up the invisible line
And I poured out my heart, slown
Only by the crests of time.

We both made small talk.
Ideas picked here and there
Jobs, weather, all flopped
Clumsily through the speakers.

Then... static.

For minutes at a time.

Nothing but a null signal.

Floated through the cold.

She told me I was missed.
I told her I missed her back.

Then, static again.
Frightening, quiet static.
As if the electrons themselves
Were afraid to move.
And, instead, whispered quietly amongst themselves.

The girl on the line;
My girl on the line
Was completely absent.
No familiar, happy words,
Not even the sound of a breath.
Just that ever-present, ever-frightening static.

Where did you go, Stephanie?
I missed you.
And not just your body or your mind.
I miss your warm tones over the speaker
Which were replaced by static.