Submitted for the #mmpoetrybattle prompt word: curls.

When we were kids,
You called me on 
the telephone,
and when you did,
for a minute 
I felt less alone.
Now that we’re grown,
what fills my ear?
All that I can hear --
just a dial tone.

Turning the page,
it curls and breaks
just like the waves
after an earthquake.
Words in an array
dancing like a ballet;
my heart on display,
arranged in a bouquet,
for a woman named …

Written by Jungle, (C) 2021, all rights reserved.

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