Phonecall

He is the first spring flower, breaking through the heavy, cold snow.
“How are you?” softly glides into her.
Tears stop, drying to salt. 
She reaches through the phone and gives him a kiss.
A silent “thank you” replies its answer. 

The soft sounds of his breathing tickle the ears.
A missed comfort that used to not be there. 
A horrific yell booms through the phone.
“Ha! Got’em!” follows a surprised squeak.
Maybe the comfort is not always missed. 

Closing her eyes, the sound of Luis has her back in his room:
Taking a nap while he plays his video games,
Curled up with his hoodie and soft, fluffy blanket, 
Breathing the scent of warm sweat, Sonic grease, and an Old Spice 2-in-1 body wash.
Faint beating of the heart can be felt once more.

A ringtone taunts me, creeping cold where warmth used to be.
Shadowy sadness overcomes, seeping me through the bed.
Messages echoing through space cannot replace.
A missed comfort that used to not be there.
“Goodnight, Anna Kae”

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