Call waiting

All would be better if the phone call went differently 20 years ago.

If I hadn’t waited for him to call. If he didn’t take so long to call me.

But I didn’t understand. I didn’t forgive. I reacted.

The summer was lonely when it shouldn’t have been.

Now, an envy emerges near my belly button

when I see myself in a younger form

who made a better decision.

I clean now beside my younger selves.

Waiting for messes.

Waiting for the phone to ring.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s