last time you called

i'm sorry

the last time
you called
i couldn't hear
anything

but wind and
thunder
and rain

and the soft
whispers
i was used
to sending
your way

turned into
a volley of
yells
growls
and
screams of frustration

not at all
what i want
to leave you with

i know my voice
is a word picture
of what i am

and i want
that image
to be perfect

to see you through
the night

bookends of
conversation can
make for volumes
of beautiful words

as long as
the connection
is true

(new)

prompt:  http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2017-april-pad-challenge-day-23