
I called, but there was no answer—
just the hollow ring
of my own hope bouncing back at me.
The line stayed open,
silent as an empty room
where your name still hangs in the air.
I rehearsed what I would’ve said,
every apology, every truth,
but silence swallowed them whole.
Maybe you were busy living,
or maybe you were learning
how to forget the sound of my voice.
I let the phone fall to my side,
realizing some distances
aren’t measured in miles—
they’re measured in unanswered calls.