I'm sitting alone by the phone, wishing you'd call, wishing you were here, and wishing that I would stop wishing so much. I'll have a shit day, and I'll entertain thoughts of contacting you, to complain, to dump on you, to share the grief, and then I'll start berating myself for straying so far. I would wait for hours, days, weeks to hear from you, refraining from contacting first, knowing you'll be busy anyway, and telling myself you've got better things to do and I was never a priority anyway. I'll have a good day, and I'll start thinking of a new start, to start forgetting you, to remove you from my psyche. And then, just when I had managed to do just that... you say hey. And I'm back to square one again.