tell me how
you brush me aside
like i am some
insignificant phone call
and no matter how many times
the phone rings
no matter how many times
my heart calls for you
you continue to embody
a nonchalant nature that is
remarkably admirable
but nothing to indicate
you miss me
or that i was
ever of importance to you;
your indifference
is the most terrifying reality
that i have ever come to experience.
because
my lungs
they collapse
at the sound of your voice
and i never
stop hearing
the ringing of your voice
you talk—
i listen
you talk—
i listen
i talk—
i can’t talk
resulting in
those silent
fifteen minute-long voicemails
you receive
from no one in particular
at 4 A.M.
every wednesday night
but i
i would expect you
to inflate them again
to fill me
lift me
complete me
every time
you would miss me
and resurface at my doorstep
i would wait
until you missed me
and resurfaced at my doorstep
but even when i
swallowed the empty words you fed me
the meaningless apologies
that i desperately wanted to believe were true
but knew better than to accept
the breathlessness that resulted
wasn’t due to a loss of words
oh what i would give
to be at a loss of words
but you
you silenced me
with your mouth
not with kisses
but with your mouth
and you trailed bruises
down my neck
not love bites
but bruises
you emptied me
dropped me
broke me
every time
you were lonely
and resurfaced at my doorstep
yet i would wait
until you were lonely
and resurfaced at my doorstep
so tell me how
to stop counting
how many times
the phone rings
or how many times
my heart calls for you
because
the next morning
when i wake up to
empty sheets
with no trace of you
or the night before
i don’t know if
the ringing had
induced a kind of madness
that caused me to
conjure up
the whole thing
in my mind
but i do know that
it leaves me hollow
eyes burning
and lips trembling
because
for those few minutes
the next morning
the ringing halts
and i can no longer pretend
i don’t know that
whether it’s one or one hundred
you will never care
to answer.

Prose Response:
While I have personally not been through a traumatic relationship to the extent that this poem exemplifies, this piece was inspired, and is rooted in, one of my deepest fears—losing my voice.
And while this may be ironic and humorous for some, (as I did in fact lose my voice last Friday—stupid laryngitis) I speak of symbolism. I speak of having the ability to talk, but being stripped of the power behind my words. I speak of being completely vulnerable in the wrong hands. A terrifying thought, isn’t it?
Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that my voice is one of my biggest strengths. My voice has developed me from the shy, timid 11 year-old, who was afraid to talk to boys, to the strong-willed, ambitious woman that I am today. It allows me to express and act upon my beliefs, and most importantly, it allows me speak for those whom cannot speak for themselves. It allows me to speak on behalf of feminism, islamophobia, and LGBTQ+ rights. It allows me to be passionate, loud, and clear. It allows me to break gender and cultural-related stereotypes, and epitomize what I preach. It allows me to exert my influence. It gives me purpose.
Now, could you imagine having all of that stripped away from you?
Relationships are one of the most terrifying things that have ever surfaced on the face of the Earth. To put into simple terms, I am an absolute control freak. I like to have a complete, utter hold on all aspects of my life, including my emotions. Over the past 17 years, I have learned that the only person that I can truly depend on is myself. I have made myself vulnerable to good friends, only to be dismissed after 7 years of friendship. I have also disappointed those I love, though it was always unintentional. Yet, I have found that both of these scenarios embody a tendency to allow for time travel 6 years into the past. I am once again a shy, timid 11 year-old girl with no control. No voice. Powerless.
And it’s petrifying.
Now, this fear of mine doesn’t drive me away from all of my relationships. Truthful and simple love always seems to stick around. But I know now to reject ignorance, and to refrain from allowing emotion to blind me from reality. I know that my voice will not be lost if I do not let it. I know that the only way to silence the ringing of the oppressor is to refuse to be the oppressed.
So no more ringing.
Dear Riya,
Every time I read your writing I’m amazed by the way you’re able to string together everyday words and phrases into something that delivers such an impactful message. Your poem is breathtaking; the continued metaphor truly exemplifies the worst example of being denied a voice in the activities of your life.
Trying to talk to someone- hoping they respond-hoping they care, even though your conscience constantly tells you they don’t. Sleeping every night hoping to receive an answer by morning just to be disappointed, trying to convince yourself that they feel as comfortable as you do them, when deep down you know they really don’t. Trying to stop yourself from being hurt, trying to resist the urge to tap send on the twelfth unread message, only to be denied that content by the thought of “What if this gets their attention?” These were the thoughts flying through my mind as I was reading your remarkable poem. To me, such an experience would be deeply scarring and I believe that regardless of the person, we all fear the loneliness that goes hand-in-hand with the disregard your poem is so evidently symbolizes.
Your response to the poem does and amazing job of completing your thoughts and filling in any remaining questions held by the reader after your poem. Improve such a work of art would be next to impossible but I suggest adding a couple more complete connections to your life. You included a couple vague examples, which helped root your piece and I understand that a topic such as this may be difficult to discuss but one or two solid, deep examples would turn it into a true, complete masterpiece.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed reading your work because you exemplify everything you said on a daily basis. Having been friends with you though both high school and student union I can see how motivated you are to address inequalities you witness and can attest to the fact that your voice is your strongest tool. I can’t wait to read your upcoming posts and to be inspired by your amazing skill at both writing and connecting with your readers.
Yours Truly,
Madhav
Dear Madhav,
Thank you so much for your insightful comment. I am very glad that you were able to connect with my poem, and find that my prose tied the piece together.
I also appreciate your suggestion–I agree that adding a bit more depth to my personal examples would help strengthen the piece. I look forward to using that in my future writing to help connect with readers better.
Thank you once again for choosing to leave a comment! Your feedback means the world to me.
Kindest regards,
Riya Rai
Dear Riya,
In your voice, you find strength.
In your words, I find brilliance. Even something as contemptible as a toxic relationship is described in a way that is nothing short of beautiful. Your poem and prose piece, remarkable on their own, complement each other as halves of a greater whole.
Having known you since that “shy 11 year old” phase, I can definitely attest to the change you’ve undergone as a person as you found you voice. Others, however, who haven’t met that side of you might find that reference to your life a bit vague.
Overall, this piece was as excellent as one would expect from you. I’m grateful for the opportunity to read not only this, but more of your work in the future. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.
Best wishes,
Murtaza
Dear Murtaza,
Praise from a writer such as yourself is more than I deserve. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my piece–your thoughtful words made my entire day.
I will definitely be mindful about going into more depth with my anecdotes in the future. I’ve found that this has been a reoccurring problem for me, because I know what I’m saying. However, others may not, and that’s completely fair. Thank you for helping me strengthen my writing!
Warmest regards,
Riya Rai