The Call

With depression on the rise like yeast in heat, I pick up the phone to momentarily welcome the dial tone while scrolling through my rolodex of very few understanding favorite people. I see a familiar name that’s been where I’m headed to. The ringing goes on and on, I’m hoping for an answer of some sort a voice that welcomes light of some sort. Instead I get recorded audio telling me to leave a message at the tone. *BEEP*

The Poet Q

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