The Phone Booth

The phone booth near the corner
is so brightly lit that it allows
me to hide in plain sight.

The glow of the solitary bulb
casts a glare on the shadow
of my being. I can no longer
afford to pay the surcharge
for hearing your voice
in the comfort and privacy
of my home. Since you left,
I can barely afford my home.
I must forget the resonance
of your words and you.

The warmth of the lonely confines
dries the tears on my cheeks.
The necessity of this prison
makes the perfect excuse
for turning you away.