I called you tonight.
Just to talk.
I wanted to connect with someone.
I know you’re not my mother,
But I thought you could give me love.
I guess you do but…
Not in the way I ask of you.
Though this is the first time I’ve asked of you.
I try to reach out to you.
We manage to connect by faith.
You speak to me about biblical things.
I appreciate that.
But there are times,
When I need you to put your bible aside,
And just listen.
Listen to what I am saying to you.
Can you feel what I’m trying to convey to you?
You tell me that you can say more when you know more.
What more do I need to say to you?
Do I have to spell it out to you?
Perhaps even script it for you?
I ask you to speak to me from your heart.
To please show me your compassion;
A spark of empathy,
A little sympathy.
Your words, they’re not your own.
They’re true, but no warmth is in them.
Again, I asked for your heart,
But you hid it away.
Instead you give me riddles.
For you they’re probably parables.
You feel discomfort now.
The subject has changed.
There’s little else to say.
Sorry to bother you Auntie.
I just called to talk.