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Lost Signal

A poem

By Reece BeckettPublished about 14 hours ago 1 min read
Lost Signal
Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

Your warmth marches away,

its militance unsettling,

its uniform a bleeding blue,

until its ice breathes fire.

-

I speak to myself in voicemails,

a dialogue with your machine,

initiations ignored and tossed aside

I steel myself, remember to breathe.

-

The signal has dropped out,

your closeby image scrambled,

the intricacies of your face hazy

your staticky image trying to stick

to my mind.

-

Oceans away, you let the swarm inside

and they destroy what could have been.

Corrosive drool, shattered glass,

bruised skin and

a cracking screen.

-

The cardboard boxes are full

of times shared you try to burn

my evaporating structure

disintegrating,

my mismatched image becoming

hard to find.

-

The days seem to stretch, the time

elastic and malleable,

and I spend their entireties

searching for your elation.

-

You hold your rations to your chest,

while I beg for one more night,

it’s so cold by this fire,

and all that I once admired has turned me down,

slowly.

-

I step into the rain

and find myself

deep underwater,

but I don’t fight the lapping waves,

their soothing motion

lulls me into

the softest sleep I’ve known to date,

warmth at last discovered

for a moment.

Mental Healthsad poetry

About the Creator

Reece Beckett

Poetry and cultural discussion (primarily regarding film!).

Author of Portrait of a City on Fire (2020, Impspired Press). Also on Medium and Substack, with writing featured… around…

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