Call me at 3 AM. Call me when you feel like you’re collapsing in the mess that has become you, call me when your mind doesn’t feel like home, call me in those strange hours between night and morning when you feel most alone.
Call me at 1 PM. Call me when the spring breeze surrounds you, comforting as your mother’s touch, and the flowers burst from every crevice in the sidewalk, and the limbs of the trees sway against the clear afternoon sky. Call me when you need someone to share beauty with, someone to tell how excited the world makes you for once in a long time.
Call me at 9 PM. Call me when you’re taking a bath that smells of lemon and lavender, call me when your mind is clear with each breath that dissolves into the warm air, call me when poetry dares to expose itself where it has been buried in your mind, poetry in shades of white and black and everything in between. Call me when everything is falling apart, when everything is coming together.
But no matter when you call me, what shade of the night or hour of the day, I will listen. And I will love you just a little bit more, if that’s even possible.
an excerpt from a book I’ll never write #189 // call me when you need me (via worldsinmywords)
