The Phone (to boyfriends)

Twelve-thirty-four a.m. and I'm still here,

Grasping a leapord-print phone in my lap,

I have only been waiting for oh. . . three hours,

For my heart to leap at that high, shrill, ring. . .

Just a few minutes longer till twelve-fifty,

I know he will have to have called me by then,

The first two hours I knew that he would call,

Now I will suffer with reality. . .

I should not expect it (any call at all),

But you promised and that's why it hurts,

What if something happened and you're hurting now?

I now, will worry and cry all night long. . .

And if you just did not feel like calling me,

I'll cry just as hard as I did before,

Cause that means you're tired of me, and you will leave,

If not now, then eventually. . .

I know this because every boyfriend I've had,

Acted that way, and soon hated me too,

What happened to wonderful eternity?

When just like the phone, you break that promise too. . .

I know this is just and itty bitty thing,

But everything big, starts out so small,

Is there a reason other than an excuse?

Am I boring you? Or making you tired?

Please give me an excuse so it don't hurt so much,

As I am weeping upon this paper,

Please take away my fears like you always do,

As I'm weeping upon my pillow-case. . .

Ring f***ing phone!! Before I beat your d*m a$$!!!

Go**amit! Why won't you just f***in ring!!!

Please! I cannot take this, this pain I can't bear!

All I need to hear is that you love me. . .

It's one-thirty now. . .

-Rebecca Suzanne Zimmerman

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