Dead silence

You heard the dead silence in my voice over the phone
when you called and said you came over but not alone
and my heart skipped a beat, which made you feel uneasy,
while I was breaking down anew, breathless and dizzy,
as your words barred my expression of joy and ardour
—it prompted you to bid me down to pick my order.
So I tried to recompose myself as fast and best
as I could, barely containing a cry in my breast,
for I couldn’t afford an emotional breakdown
right then and there, with so many people home-around.
You sure know what the dead silence meant, short though it was,
speaking louder than all that I said outside the pause.
In it I pronounced how much I still love and miss you,
that ever since our first encounter I wanted to
make you, the boy who was so desperately looking for
a girlfriend, happy by becoming right that. What’s more,
I still dream of and desire to become your girl.
I much want to make love to you and in your arms curl.
I’ve given up on and let go all my former loves
to go pursue their happiness with somebody else.
But what about me? Don’t I deserve to be happy
too, not always forgoing my needs, feeling crappy?
I was happiest the night with you, and I want that back.
I wished to run out there and throw myself round your neck.
I don’t want to give up on you. I just can’t do it
anymore, because it’s killing me, bit by big bit,
every time I do so, and there is not much left hence.
Now you know all this was spoken in my dead silence.