Space, air and time running low.
Low as the light in this box.
Hope; my only overflowing commodity.
Cashed in for a chance.
A flip of a coin.
Heads; leaves me to gasp and shred this box with no other choice until death steals back my breath.
Tails; births a slippery new opportunity at life, just as filthy as the first began.
As the moments tick and the sweat drips, anything is possible.
I soak it in…
Press the button..
Watch the empty battery flash..
I dial you first, I will beg forgiveness.
Anything if you dig me up…
It rings once, then again and..
“Hello” you say.
Like it’s just one of your games, I keep the fear from my voice, “Honey. Please get me out, I need…
Your familiar mocking laugh cuts in, “Bet you thought that was really me… leave a message!”
Voicemail beeps and I open my mouth..
The phone dies.
Heads; I lose.