when the phone rings

I have to confess guilty of those pre-judgement things lovers do. I'm crap at playing games and don't really like having to read between the lines. Basically, I'm no fortune teller and you're no crystal ball.

Said that, everytime the phone rings, after these long periods of silence, it's like the silence is not the only thing being broken. There's this constant flux inside of me that is broken; the rationality and peace is disturbed. I like noise, distorted sounds, I like you bursting the bubble around me. But you never get inside.

Gravitational state of mind, I sit and listen to all you have to say, I distract you with comments to avoid to answer questions, I keep the answers to myself. But you always sneak and get the information you want. it's the power you have over me that seduces me; the mystery surrounding your vague explanations and the reasons why you decided to call.

we talk silly, never like lovers. we pretend we don't know where we stand. but everytime we feel cold and distant, we go back to reactivate our connection; it's a circle of pleasure and trade. my vicious headache. I write it all to call it to an end, but there you stand, ahead of me, to read me and hold me and get me started again.

lovers don't share stories. they share memories and secrets.

we don't know what's in between our ends, but we know where to go when desire strikes.