The Phone Call
My truth comes calling,
on an international phone call
Sounding exactly like
every other person who thinks
they have something important to say
Except this one always does
For sure, her words are truth,
her truths truer.
She thinks I need to be better,
work harder, be smarter at my job
I know, I know, I haven’t done it all yet
“Oh, didn’t they promise you that last month?”
I hate her for saying that
Hate her even more because it was 6 months ago, not last month.
This was last week
and I’m still frowning in my sleep
I know because when I wake up,
my jaws hurt from clenching them
Every hour from midnight to seven,
she reminds me,
“Wasn’t that promised to you
6 months ago?”
Every night she invades my dreams
Every day her voice dogs me.
I won’t take her calls anymore, I decide, I’ll block her, delete her number even
Who needs this constant pressure?
And I plunge into being better, working harder and being smarter at my job
And hope and pray
that it’ll help me forget
That she only remembers to call
once a year.
*Read my other Love Poetry. Or listen to it.
(On Instagram)
