Phone Break-Ups of Others

I had never loved you more.

Never more than the night

that your relationship ended

over the phone in quick taps.

 

You said it was a mutual split,

but I knew better as I watched

your fingers trace pages of the

calculus book on your desk,

 

pencil limp on a nearby shelf.

And I knew it by the way

your foot stopped tapping to

the background pulse of music.

 

I imagined that phone call - 

you standing out in the falling

autumn leaves with black

gloves pulled tight, listening

 

to the grievances from the other

end of the line, your nose crinkled

at the flurried words you didn’t

know or couldn’t pronounce.

 

And that final click, the static

snapping shut of sound before

you could argue, dissuade, or even

defend your shelled-in spirit.

 

I had never loved you more

than that night I crawled into

your bed and pressed my body

against your shivering frame,

 

wrapping you in blankets and

empathy, and cursing myself for

taking so damn long to open up

enough to help open you.