The phone was warm against my ear

The phone was warm against my ear,

your voice, a tangle, thick with fear,

and all the messes you had made.

I listened, again. I tried to wade

into the swamp with you, to find

a dry spot, a solid mind.

But my own strength was gone,

a frayed thread, thin and worn.

I heard your plea, felt the old pull,

but something in me just went dull.

I closed my eyes.

The plastic cool

against my palm.

I put it down.

The click was small,

a breath released.

The quiet of the empty room

felt like a truce,

a deep, hard peace.