by Emily Ford

he says
you have to hang up
he says
and with a tap
that’s that.
He could start another call
he could choke on a chip,
he could cheat on me
or win the lottery
and I may as well be
in Sicily
(I wish).
Without a kiss,
or fumble,
or tumble in the sheets,
without hands holding
and night’s back to back
or feet to feet,
is love fast and fit enough
to run the distance between?

Emily Ford | @words for when
She’s just a woman, writing in front of another woman, asking her to love her words.

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