Or am I?

Sometimes, I can’t tell the difference.

I know you messaged me. I saw that you called. I forgot to return that text message, because it slipped through my memory and all

that I wanted to was to write back and say that I’m sorry

I couldn’t see it

I couldn’t be it

I couldn’t free it from my mind

I had reasons and excuses and chances to tell you I’m sorry that I didn’t read

what
you’d
written,

and taken time to tell me because I’m what, and what, and what …

I’m busy. I’m preoccupied.
I’m January and February loathing winter without sun, and the lack of fun I’ve become

too tired to write back
too busy to say hi
too locked in my mind, and my problems are stresses that stress out my mind?

When did the hours get shorter, and the days bleed into nights longer and
the must-do’s become will-do’s even it means I can’t do’s what I wanted to’s?

I saw that you texted.
And messaged. And called.

And all

that I wanted to do

was respond

but instead I stalled.

It’s me, if you can believe, that might wait till spring until I have banked enough hours to make your phone ring

wait for me
wait for me