Cutting Cords

The blue light is breathing
in and out
just like we used to:
stuck on reserve.

“I was just being honest.”
Intentions are feeble thoughts,
drunk on truth.
There’s static through
the phone lines we kept up.
I chopped them down
to make better connections.
“No offense.”

“Don’t be mad.”
You don’t have to try anymore.
My arm hurts from keeping you
awake.

Eager and willing,
It’s ready to shut down.
But I can’t find the will
To reach that far.