The Call

It has been four days after;

Idly I sit by my phones

Waiting for the sound of Big Sean

To announce a caller.

Anxious for the beep of a message

Not from the Network

Offering promises of elusive bonuses

But from him.

To tell me he was shy

And he missed me mildly.

To assure me that I'm not mad.

All the while wondering

"What is wrong with me?" 

It has been four days since the first kiss,

Four days since I last felt real butterflies,

Four days since anyone dared,

Four days since a burning of that kind.

Four days since... After a year.

In my mind I have played

The tape of a conversation.

Rehearsed the first words I shall utter

Speculating whether to be coy or nah

To display anger or  nonchalance.

Still unsure as to my preferred reactions

I have prepared myself to sound

Like a lady

To pretend I have been unexpectant

Like I'm not lonely.

All the while ignoring reality,

Willing myself to believe

To have faith

And hold a shred of hope

That it wasn't just it

And that he is not like all of you.

Not a disappointment

Like the past attempts.

Praying he isn't another reason

To not try anymore. 

Nkem