Voicemail

He was, on Tuesday, 

the only one 

who could break, 

break and  

crash, 

crash through 

my solid brick walls 

that built up every time something went wrong, 

and he broke those walls 

by listening 

listening and  

and thinking 

thinking and 

and answering 

answering questions, 

questions about us, 

questions about where to go from here 

from this place where I hide and hide 

and never let anyone in 

because I fear them uncovering  

who I really am 

because I don’t even know 

who I really am, 

questions about how and why the world is so 

so cruel 

and horrifying 

horrifying and 

forgetful, 

forgetful when it comes to love, 

forgetful when it comes to people loving one another 

because we know love makes the world go round 

but if love makes the world go round 

then why isn’t he here in my arms, 

why did they pull me from him 

and cart me away and why do they 

not let me call 

Call me when you get this.