The Phone

I was half asleep
When the phone rang
Maybe once, twice or trice
But I can't get up
For her memories kept on ringing my head
That I don't know when will stop
from calling---hunting me
I know it was her who called
For the rings seemed
To be endless with
Just little intervals of silence
I am sure she really wants
To hear my voice
Or hear my golden forgiveness
But I really cannot get up
Or
I don't want to get up
Quite contented for her
Stuck in the other line
Thirsty amidst that undying rings

Will I answer the phone?

I have no longer had any strength
To deduce all the possiblities for
silence can yield its powerful
Numbness much more like
My impaired senses, with that
I can't feel anything more
As my heart is now hard and heavy stucked
within these grains of sand
We once called "our bed"
Those were nights we could feel the earth's
Crust where we used to build sandcastles

Not houses.