The Call That Never Came

It started with the call that never came,

All the last chances we never gave,

The times we never felt the same,

And all the sins we never forgave,

 

The words we left unsaid,

The songs that never stirred from our throats,

In our stone like memory engraved,

Tears of regret that steered our paper boats,

 

The letters that were returned to their sender,

The anxious wait for any news to trickle in,

Clasping an old photo in hand, trying to remember,

Had those sacrifices been worth the win,

 

Strained eyes regressed back to their youthful blue,

Tarnished memories relived every day,

If we had a chance to finally undo,

What would escape with the words we say?

 

Maybe, that our blood still runs red,

And that this forsaken heart still beats,

Maybe that the thoughts in our head,

Are conspiring to match all your feats,

 

Maybe, if you don’t mind me digressing,

These wounds will heal with time one day,

Maybe, like that oft told fable, this ugly duckling,

Will finally soar into the mighty skies and say,

 

Relinquished from the tiring wait,

This soul still thrives in trepidation,

Still questioning if you had indeed met this fate,

The excuse you furnish for this disconnection,

 

But until the truth is carved out in our shrines,

The sands of time will keep disguising your vices,

Until you finally stop to read these signs,

Elusive you’ll remain at the time of crisis.

 

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