I pick up the phone, and I hear the silent, unending beep on the other end. I think of you, of how you would sound like saying hello, hi, I love you? I lie back down on the bed, feeling the cold down feathers pressing against my cheek, winding my fingers around the cord. Maybe velvety, the kind that slinks it's way around hearts with oblivious, quaint charm. Maybe husky, rough and raspy, a voice that doesn't need to be strained to be heard. Maybe it's soft, and beautiful, a voice that is the carrier of lullabies when I have trouble sleeping, that entwines my being with every word uttered. Or even dull, monotonous, the kind that takes a person forever to decipher the emotions beneath the lull of the voice.
I flip over, trying to match you to every voice possible. Sultry, whispery, harsh, cold, joyful, brisk, intoxicating, beautiful.
And then I hear the white noise on the other end. I smile, and lay the phone back on the reciever, lying back down on my back, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling.
Thinking. Wishing. Dreaming. Imagining the casual string of words in which you would draw from your lips, that I know I would always come to love.