telephone traveller

there is only so much of my smile that i can throw across to you, like an anchor, hoping to catch your sleeve and bridge the gap between decent and despair. sometimes my smile isn't enough for me. when words die quickly, collapsed shells littering my lap like pathetic efforts to live a better life, there are only so many questions i can ask. but i wish i could travel through this telephone cord to you, spin through wires and electrocute my cells. i would watch blue currents travel up and down my body, flashing lights flickering over my eyes, speeding through those black strings that hang through the skies connecting voices to each other. emerging into your yellow lighted room, shadowed and underground, through your receiver and in front of your face. my lips, numb from the cold flashing speed of travel through telephone wire, know ten ways that they can make it better for you, for me. a corsing heat spread through your body, violent and unrelenting from the leftover electrolites running through my veins. i wonder why it is that we cannot relate to each other's voices alone. your hands trace my white wrists, tiny blue veins criss cross and show through translucent skin. you say you forget who i am when you cannot see me, you need to see my wrists because they hold all of my secrets, all of my weakness. you need to hold this close to your eyes so you can remember that we are both flawed and lost because that is the only way you and i are supposed to be together. our voices are too much like our minds talking, our bodies are extensions of our hearts, blood-filled and responsive to touch, to smiles, to wrists.