Pay Phones & Poets

Pay phone to a poet's heart
Always get a dial tone
Please just leave a message
Poet isn't home

He's standing outside in the rain
Busy one-way street
Soft noise made by little drops
Drown out softer heartbeats

He's standing in a phone booth
Counting change in his hand
Feeds the phone another nickel
Calls anyone he can

Lonely hours pass
Clouds linger in the sky
Whispers in dear poet's head
Speak no word of a lie

From steady drips of silent rain
To Poseidon's own downpour
Poets heartbeat is slower now
Then any hour before

As the narrator of this poem
I know how the poet feels for you
He's hurt all tho he understands
Why you don't feel it too

Poet on a one-way street
Warm through the cold rain
You said that you loved him
But we both no it's not the same

Poet needs no jacket
You know why he's so warm?
Blood beats and flows the hottest
From hearts broken and/or torn

Last coin in poet's hand
He calls you once more
He needs to hear your voice
Not just the rain's downpour

He has to leave a message
You didn't pick up the line
A million words come to his head
What will he say this time?

Poet says he loves you
Waits, then hangs up the phone
He doesn't need another lie
To know that he's alone

He's sitting in a phone booth
Waiting for the sun
But the pay phone's just a metaphor
For feeling something but receiving none

*You said you hated metaphors so I made it pretty easy*

trying to jump away from rock that keeps on spreading
for solace in the shift of the sinking sand
i'd rather feel the pain all too familiar
than be broken by a lover i don't understand
'cause i don't understand

~Jealous Kind-Jars Of Clay