I had the words lined up like a firing squad

I had the words lined up like a firing squad,

ready to let three years of silence die.

I was standing in the lot by the grocery store,

watching the clouds go heavy in the sky.

I said your name and I felt the air shift,

starting the sentence that would make it right.

Then the bar dropped out like a sudden cliff,

and left me talking to the coming night.

The screen says 'Call Failed' in a heartless glow,

bleeding white light on a bag of melting ice.

There is no way for you to ever know

that for once, I wasn't trying to be concise.

The water is pooling on the passenger floor,

a slow, steady leak from a frozen mistake.

I’m just a man outside a supermarket door

with a ghost on the line I can’t seem to wake.