Gallimaufry

Disengaged.

Midnight.
Call starts on 2% battery,
He says I love you and the phone dies.
Forgets to call the next day.

He forgets.

2 a.m.
He said when everyone else is asleep,
We’ll talk.
He knocks out with them.
And as I lie awake,
I dread the apology he’ll write the next morning.

I’ve gotten used to forgiving.

He said things will change.
The next day rolls around,
And his battery is recharged.
“What are you doing today?” I ask,
Hoping he says “Calling you.”
He doesn’t.
Never does.

At least, not anymore.

His voice is the first thing I think of
When I wake up every morning.
How can you forget something you desperately want to hear?
How can you easily go a day without hearing it?
So I ask him to call, because I can’t wait any longer.
He says he’ll call me later,
When there are no other distractions.

It’s midnight.
Call starts on 2% battery,
Says I love you and the phone dies.
He forgets to call the next day.

But he always remembers to say I’m sorry.

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