He never calls.

He never calls. Had love left his shadow on my wall as a constant reminder of the fall, how far to run, the deepest dive, in the shallow wait of his return Running to the farthest point of loves once cherished view Had colour faded out like night and dimmed it down in hue, I thought maybe he would stay, and live the wildest dreams we shared, Yet ripped the chest of my affections and trampled upon the way I cared Yet alone In some figuring thought he wasn't strong enough to see, that is had praised the very ground he walked, the land and sea I hadn't heard from him since then , that night he could have took my life, my heart lay pounding viciously, as if it was cut by a knife, I wished his view could see my eyes the tears screaming to come out, the inside turmoil that he caused the worry and the doubt He walked away as cold as winter where once a burning flame held heat, and I had found in the silence the emptiness within his feet, he walked right over my heart, as if I had no soul to feel, and nightmares come to remind me he's gone, that the pain I feel is real, and so I keep his shadow in an empty room of whitened walls and listen for the phone to ring, but he never calls. Nardine Sanderson 01/05/2020 (c) .