Austin

18

Gone

College-bound and she stay’s home.
I’m gone yet the memories stick.
On the phone we let our emotions grow cold,
to ease the severance and the passing glow.

There’s little more romance to roam.
The verbiage is making me sick.
Your silence just makes me feel old.
The line I just feel that I tow.

I miss the thoughtless moan,
The air we once laid in was thick.
Now worry has ridden in bold,
our trust and our confidence low.

I hope that when I do return home,
that the promises that we made stick,
that some warmth will be born from this cold.
That my phone screen won’t be the only glow.