Uncorrected Proofs

The mirrors and the unacknowledged nods
 Dial tones and license plates
 The words you didn't choose
 Everything the day's too small to hold
 Spills on to the dusk
 And shorts the evening's fuse
 So you fumble for a voice
 And sing happy birthday
 Read it to yourself again
 The stories always end the same
 He can't stay and she won't run
 And fear is where they're calling from
 Staunch the blood from countless tiny cuts
 We're all out of bandages
 The heaters' rattle, taunt
 Sifting through translucent shards of glass
 Looking for a filament
 That lit the life you want
 So you stumble for the phone
 Grasp the cord and pull
 Will your readership complain the stories always end the same?
 She can't stay and he won't run, and fear is where they're calling from
 Afraid is where you're calling from