The call

I would like to call you.
Not now.
Maybe one day,
Ten years from now.
I would like to hear that weird sound on my cellphone.
Your voice too.
Ten years are a very long time,
Maybe your voice will be different,
And I won’t recognize it.
I would like to tell you a lot of things,
But only good stuff.
I would talk about my longer hair,
My nails that I don’t bite anymore.
I would talk about places I visited,
Dreams wished upon a shooting star.
I would talk about books I wrote, the ones I deleted, and the ones I kept hidden.
I would talk about dreams,
Our present, which used to be our future and used to scare us.
I would talk about all the photographs I left hanging on my walls,
Noise in my city.
I would tell you that time goes fast,
But we don’t.
I would feel your smile,
I would feel it forming on your lips.
I would ask you: “Where have you been?”
And your silence,
Only that deafening silence,
Will be the answer.
And then I would tell you that in those ten years it rained a lot, and once every year I thought about you.
I would tell you that the ceiling was white,
And at night you would fill it.
And I would keep hanging on,
I would not put that telephone down without saying:
“Ten years are a very long time, but I still love you as i used to, maybe more”