Impulse

I wanted to hear your voice. The impulse arose, and I went with it...for nothing. I guess I should be glad. The whole time the phone was ringing, my stomach was in knots and my hand kept clenching and unclenching on the wheel. So why the disappointment? More importantly, why the sadness?

I was happy to find numbness. Not the forced, desperate kind, but the natural kind. The one that comes with time and distance. Finally, I thought, I've moved on and matured. Stopped acting like a hurt child. Maybe this is proof that things aren't settled...how can they be? We're in a stalemate, really. Years without communication have resolved only so much. I told myself that it was pointless to make a move. You aren't ready. I know you aren't. She has you so wrapped up in her, that you've stopped being yourself. You wouldn't listen. And you wouldn't care; at least, not enough.

Despite all that...in spite of all that, I wanted to hear your voice. It seems the child is still strong in me. Surprise?...not really.

She keeps me clean
of emotional clutter and debris.
Without her, there would only be the screams
that kept me up so many nights.

That annoying internal racket,
the runny nose and puffy eyes.
The kid did nothing but cry.
What else was I supposed to do?

The situation called for something new.
Something improved.
So I gave it over to the fire,
let defense mechanisms take hold.

And here I am.