The Silver Glow

Let it go to voicemail, just let me go home.

I will break at the next ring of a telephone.

But you’re keen to get it your way, I must admit –

Somehow your gaze feels worse than a hit.

The walls stare back and their silence reminds me

How I’m nothing without your claws behind me.

The rain plays with the backbone I once owned,

I lost it to your hexes, intoned and cold.

Now it sits by the window you refuse to unlock

And the phones keep ringing me out of luck.

“Am I trapped? Or am I just overreacting?”

My voice sounds brave but it’s clearly cracking.

And my judgement may be lacking, that I know,

But the only light I see is the silver glow

Coming from another screen that you gave me

As a weak attempt to finally “save me”.

But your hospitality still tastes hostile,

A wicked circle of control, then a white lie.

So let it go to voicemail, just let me go home.

I will break the next ringing telephone.

-JW