Steven Chung (May 8th,1992 / Queens, New York)
One Call Away
Smoking in the phone booth,
under dying street lights,
the city still remains alive.
Clearly hearing ringing bells,
I grab the phone, instantly,
and utter out, “Hello? ”
Waiting for the breath of
any life line over there,
I sadly tell myself,
“I am here alone, yet again”.
Hanging up the phone to finally
suffocate that sound of monotone,
I recollect my calls with operators
in belief that they were once my friends.
Switching boards from ‘Friends for Life’
to ‘Foes from Lies’, was I supposed to be
against the smoke of hairy vines, today?
Ugh, feeling Ivy’s poison flowing through
my natural crimson streams, wishing it
were just a dream, I can’t breathe.
Having changed my mind about my
lonely view in life, I reach for the phone
and quickly dial ‘EMERGENCY’.
Slowly falling down inside this hazy
booth, I begin to cry as I lastly read a
message taped along its side stating this,
‘OUT OF ORDER’.
Rise, and Shine.
Dedicated to Bryan Soriano
Comments about this poem (One Call Away by Steven Chung )
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