I assume you heard the news over the phone
The pause the caller had before.
Extending the time of not knowing for just a little longer
Making the space before the devastation hits
Just a little bigger
Hoping that they can offer you that one second more of peace
Before you can lose a piece of you for ever
The pulse before the contraction of yourself
That you can never expand back into again
That space filled with memories of giggling and harmonized drives
That space filled with nights spent chasing the moon, call me maybe
It’s a little smaller now.
Painting lines in a snow storm
And looking at bad views
Is a little smaller now
Making music
Singing music
Dancing to music
It’s a little smaller
All because of the voice that whispers after the pause.
Wax Poetic by Julia Johnson 