How long has it been since I last called you? A year? 11 or 13 months? I can't be quite sure, it amazes me how date and time blend in when it comes to you. Then I check my statuses in Facebook, my conversations on msn - which I should admit I keep for further consideration when drunk where torture is my top favorite activity - and finally, your emails (mine of gold, if pain was gold, of course). What was my point again? Oh yes, last call. I have a date now, plus excrutiating pain in my chest reminding me I'm human and worst of all, in-love. And if this could get any worse, female in-love specimen - the things hormones can do!
But the reason why time is so important is I want to call you again. Maybe if it was long enough (keep this in mind, there's always soemthing tricky about the word 'enough'), again maybe it was long enough, when I call you you'll think noone has loved you and missed you for this long. You'll miss me, you'll want this loving person to love you forever, to be by your side. You'll want me back, you'll me. Yeah, don't laugh, believe me I know how pathetic that sounds - I'm writing it, remember? and pathetically saying it out loud in my head... Now you can start rolling on the floor laughing your fat ass off.
But enough is never enough, is it. Noone can eat enough not to be hungry again, loving enough is breaking a record guinnes, someone else somewhere sometime can break it again. So, my love isn't enough, my call is definetely not enough, not close at all, wanting you enough won't make you come back to me, it won't even make you want to talk to me. Yet, I miss you and have no idea what will happen if I call you. Odds aren't good - best one is you won't know it's me until I say it's me then second best is you'll ask what I want. From then on, outcomes are bad, worse and worst. Your voice is beautiful, the way you used to say "bonita" in my ear, was heavenly.