I will find my revolution one day

I called the Kentucky number.
Again.
A woman picked up.
Was it her voice?
Could've been.

I breathed, panicked.
Hung up.
It's been too long.
What do I say?

Even if it was her.
There is nothing I could say.
That would be cool enough.
To keep her on the phone.

Plus, I was drunk.
And if I am going to keep the convo.
I shouldn't be immediately discredited.
By drink.

I wonder if she'll update her blog.
I wonder if she'll read this and know.

I don't know what I want.
I just know I still have this pit in my stomach.
I think about her often and wonder what if.
I wish things were different.
I shake just thinking about her voice.

The lock on my heart is loose.
And I am fighting for air.
Time.