Expectedly cheerful, her voice sings to me.
Unwavering, lively and always busy.
Wouldn't mind talking an hour or three,
but we can't.
How's my day? It's fine; and yours? It's good too.
Are those sniffles? Oh, my. So you've caught the flu?
I would love to drive there and visit you,
but I can't.
Rambling transition-less, awkward and flailing.
Trying to get her to stay, but I'm failing.
Wait, I think the next topic's unveiling,
but she can't.
Despite that she's hung up, I'm still hung up on her.
Thinking about how things are and things were.
I could call her back and let feelings transfer,
but I won't.
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