I heard about an old broken phone box 

Where people would go to talk, to have imaginary conversations

At first, I found it foolish

And then I joined the queue. 

 

When my turn came, I dialled your old number

I knew this was no second chance, but I told you everything            

And I waited in silence

As if you might respond. 

 

I thought I heard you breathe.

I hung up when I remembered they told me my life should go on.

One second, you were here. 



By Oliver O'Hare