I've long stopped wondering
why you don't answer.
There's a part of me
(an arguably stupid part)
that still wants to hear your voice.
Some days I catch myself
staring at the phone –
Listening and Waiting -
or looking for the postman –
Watching and Waiting -
with great anticipation
for an answer from you.
I know you won't call
and you probably haven't read
a single one of the many letters I've sent.
Still, I will patiently and loyally wait
for the phone to ring,
with your number glowing
on the caller ID screen,
or for a letter to appear,
with your messy handwriting
scrawling my name across an envelope.