Waiting for a phonecall

My fingers are taping the side of my lazy chair.
Nervously, without a rythme or pace.
Thousand times in a minute my eye searches for the phone
hoping the screen would light up and ring.
The balance in my brain tends to choose for my dark side:
She won't call, why would she?
I close my eyes and try to imagine her smile
but I quickly open them again because
I'm afraid that not seeing is going to lead to deafness,
deafness to loss of contact, loss of contact to life long grief
and life long grief to a life of meaningless days, unfulfilled ones.
My wet hands are cold and I take a sip of water to clear my throat.
As I feel the water running down in my hurting chest
I hear a wonderful sound.
A ring that means that the angels are calling.
Swiftly I jump up and press the green phonebutton
and the pretender in me says in a cool voice: hello.
I hear the voice that I was longing for,
and pretend I wasn't waiting for a phone call.
My pulse goes up thou, and only when I hear: Te iubesc, my heart can rest.