sometimes my phone rings with the memory of you.

it lights up
    the way i used to when
      you were in the room.

it rings a beautiful tune
    the one i had set for you
      but instead of calling to say i love you

you're calling to say you'll be picking your stuff soon and i can't take it.

and i scroll through my gallery
thumbing the pages of our passed love
each photo ignites
a new memory

and suddenly they disappear just as you did and my gallery goes blank just like me when you weren't around and i can't take it.

and now, face down on our (my) bed
    my sheets still carry your scent
       and the phone trills its tune
          signalling your arrival
             and maybe, for the last time,

my phone is ringing with the memory of you.

a word !

thanks to putrescentpoet
for making me realise
how much i love repitition
and giving me
a signature theme
in my poems

love you vicky <3