I hear your voice
So far off in the distance

Seemingly a cry of anguish
Yet,
I’m sure is yours

A more than audible sound
Rings clear,
Despite the clamorous crowd

I look about.
I hear my name.

I hear your call,
But to my shame,
I can’t find your face

Waves and waves
Of color and people
Obscure my vision

And I know,
The excuse is lame

Your cry comes,
Again and again

Cries of desperation
Cries of provocation

Cries that I know
Hurt you
As much as they hurt me

Cries that I know
Are meant to anger me
As much as they are meant to call me.

Though,
I know you seek me
As urgently as I seek you

I still must ask why…
Why?
Why do you resurface our pain?

You know that I love you.
You know that I wouldn’t…
That I couldn’t leave you.

Yet,
You still hurt me,
All the same.

My chest hurts,
At your choice of treachery
At your physical absence,
At our shared separation

My heart aches,
With each of your calls.

Quietly,
It seeks your presence.

Even as dreams shatter,
With your accusations,

Shamelessly,
It yearns for consolation.

I hear your voice shout,
But your words,
Leave me to wonder,

If it really was your voice
That I heard after all

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This story was inspired by a writing prompt from the “Storyteller’s Vault” Publication.

Shout Provocation | Clamorous