The girls. They bent to your kisses.
Danced at your touch, a jagged, painful, hopeful dance.
They believed your words when you said you'd call.
They hovered near the phone
took a little longer than necessary to dust around it,
checking if fate hadn't unplugged it as they swept under it.
Fussing, waiting, urgent whispered prayers
till mama shouted "Girl get in here"
Then they ripped themselves away
realising that it was the 4th day after your promise
and like all the honey-tongued others before you,
the phone is where you went to die.
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