El Teléfono
Pablo López
The Phone
I want to stop forgiving myself every day
For exposing myself recklessly every night
For remembering you more than I should
For being an intern in the office of waste
I'm going to leave 40 candles lit
To see if any of them brings back our fire
I don't want any more technology hugs
Nor your silence choked with color
That night I swore
That I wouldn't do it
And ended up with my fingers shattered
I'm simpler than I thought
This is the story
Of a turned-off phone
When I wrote
That bold message
I stained almost every word with wine
I was the shame
Of the night owl poet
And of the dogs that bark but don't bite
I don't want blue
I don't want busy or unavailable
I don't want a phone at 6 in the morning
I want you to listen
To this misguided idiot
And his defeat of screen and charger
That night I swore
That I wouldn't do it
And ended up with my fingers shattered
I'm simpler than I thought
This is the story
Of a turned-off phone
And that night I swore
That I wouldn't do it
And ended up with my hands and fingers shattered
I'm smaller than I thought
This is the story
Of a turned-off phone
