It came, <br />before the last <br />second <br />melted. <br />Each time <br />I hear it <br />I shudder, <br />The ghost <br />on the other <br />line. <br />Hysterics, <br />or a Calm <br />not sure <br />which is <br />worse. <br />If he is <br />dead, <br />I think <br />things <br />will only <br />get worse <br />from here. <br />I tremble myself <br />into a wet <br />heap <br />I have no <br />womb to climb <br />in, nor a strong <br />hand to squeeze. <br />bring me black <br />long moments <br />of nothing <br />It's to late, <br />and to soon.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ghost-on-the-line/
