The phone hums low in an empty room

The phone hums low in an empty room,

a vacant sound between static and breath.

I called again — nothing but his sigh,

a sound swallowed by distance, a breath held tight.

His silence is a switch flipped in the dark,

a weight pressing against the line, unspoken.

I press the speaker to my ear,

hearing the hiss where words should live,

listening for a crack in the quiet.

But silence carves shadows in this empty space,

where I wanted noise,

wanted him,

wanted anything but this heavy hush.