You didn’t call me back

I wondered why you didn’t call me back.

I pictured over and over where your raven hair would lay down on my pillow and where the imprint of your body would down lay on my sheets, and how your dainty, pretty face would lay down next to mine——but you didn’t call me back.

I wondered if you were really laughing at all my jokes, and little stories and witticisms, or if you were just laughing because you had too much Merlot.

Maybe.

But, I would not know, since I don’t drink.

Our first date felt as though time stood still, yet it lasted longer than we had intended.

We met at a restaurant at 7pm, and left at 11:30.

Was that too much?

Was I too much?

I always felt like I have dreamed too much, and been inside of my mind in social situations where it is inappropriate.

I have always wandered off to high mountains, with tall trees, running with bare feet, jumping off into the sea with wild abandon, to swim with the mermaids and whales ... but when I would open my eyes, I’d realize that people were looking at me expectantly, wondering why I wasn’t talking back to them.

It’s not that I am withdrawn. I love people.

I day dream often, but... it’s so much more than often... it’s all of the time.

Maybe that’s what went wrong.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t call me back.

I was dreaming of you as we were sitting across from each other.

I was thinking of your face as you were only feet apart from mine.

I was imagining us laughing together in a wild fantasy world of romance and intrigue, with fairies and quirky friends, and how we would kiss at the height of all of the conflict—-how we’d have to sacrifice ourselves to save the world.

But that was okay.

As long as we were together.

I’d make sure I was keeping up a conversation with you, but my mind was a carrying on an even bigger conversation.

And I wondered... did you see through me somehow?

Did you see past my eyes and into my wild mind?

Or was there a subtle tension between us that we felt building up throughout the night? A stark reminder of how two lonely people coming together couldn’t possibly make one whole couple.

Because I saw it in your eyes.

You were lonely too.

But... you still didn’t call me back.

It’s hard for me to go out and try to carry myself with that certain social dignity that most people do naturally.

I feel like I have a crack inside of me where that function supposedly exists, and it’s almost impossible to keep it working properly.

I don’t think I’m broken. I think that I just work differently—-and the person that can see this crack without finding it devastating to their own social and emotional health—well, that person will call me back.

And you—- I really liked you.

It was almost a dream for me when you said yes to my query for a date, and I wanted to write you a long poem or story to show you my feelings—-but my mom said that might be too much too soon.

I didn’t know you long, just at work, and you were so beautiful when you laughed.

I pictured you and me together; both wearing long beautiful gowns, dancing at a huge ball—-when suddenly——

The floor cracks——

The lights turn green—-

And our enemies approach us,

We turn, a fighting stance; ripping our gowns off the bottom a little so we can move more fluidly,

And we take out our hidden Katanas —

And we both fight off 1,000 Samurai enemies.

Then after, I wipe the blood off of your gorgeous face with my pretty handkerchief that

I got from my grandmother; who stitched it lovingly just for me,

And kiss you like crazy.

We could’ve had that,

But sadly,

You didn’t

Call me back.