3am

My phone rings at three o’clock in the morning
And I half awaken from the sleep it took me so long to achieve
Fumbling in the dark for the small cell phone that vibrates incessantly on my nightstand
Refusing to stop until it is answered.
I brace myself for the worst,
Expecting the caller to bear news of a death, breakup or freak accident on I-95,
Images of flashing lights racing through my mind,
But instead am greeted by the sound of you.
You,
Who bears no understanding of time zones
Or sleep cycles
Or courtesy.
You ask me innocently if I had been sleeping,
As if you had expected me to be doing something else in the early morning hours of a Tuesday,
And although I am lying in bed, eyes closed, in a comforter cocoon,
I reply “No,”.
I am desperate for your voice
And hearing it makes me forget that I have work in 6 hours
And have not had a decent nights sleep in over a week.
I would listen to you breathe if it meant that I was able to listen at all.
We talk about nothing,
And although I silently wish we would broach a topic of importance,
Like what is going on between us,
I am grateful for every line of bullshit we utter if only because it means we have not yet said goodbye.
My heart, however, still weighs heavy on the tip of my tongue
And every time we talk about the weather
It threatens to springboard into the receiver and into your ears
So that maybe you would finally know how I really feel.
“Yes, it did rain today”