Electronic Communication

I sit around and wait for your call
Or email
Or text
Or bit of electronic communication
Traveling via fiber optic cables buried deep underground
Allowing me to pretend this distance does not exist.
I refuse to make the first move
So frightened by the threat of weakness that I am unable to bring myself to some sort of action.
And so I wait
Writing lines on Post-it notes in prose that was developed in classes that never mattered
So that if you call
When you call
I’ll know exactly what to say
Because silence kills
Or at least it kills me
When the words become so backed in my throat that I feel as if I’m drowning.
Hopefully you’ve developed some telepathy in your time away
And I won’t have to speak
And we can just be
Separated by phone lines
And distance
And fear.
I sit
And I wait.
I don’t eat and I don’t sleep anticipating just a bit of communication
That I know will never come.