I've been watching too many sappy romances lately, so please bear with me

My cardiac muscles are pumping
Like an overworked steamship
Waiting for its last voyage
In an English coast, tasting the
Coal covered brine of dead
Marine life and lost shoes.

Dialed your home again, except for
The final number, hoping that
An interruption will take place
Before I hit 9, a lousy excuse
For a silly fear of conversation.

Press 9, now press talk, but
Ten sewing machines crisscross
My fingers with stitches, my guitar
Strings for threads, composing
Ballads across my skin.

Unfold my macbook, and you're
There, listening to the news
You tell me about the weather
And how you're listening to
the winds, waiting for her.