Disconnection

I would connect and you would respond, somehow knowing, tactile instinct, it was me on the line. At the dial tone my heart cut beats, breath suspended, smothered chords until the sound of your voice. Words were spoken, silence breached you would relate of golden things and closely I would listen. Magnetised like a child by Christmas tales or bedtime stories, precious fables, hooked on every priceless word. The phone lies still now, dead and lifeless, static buzzing in a void of whispering ghosts. You answer no more and I am broken, washed up and all alone, adrift in disconnection.