He had treated you poorly. And yet, there was nobody better than you. It just took him a while 'til he knew. So as he laid there before a blank shore, he thought, he pondered, would you spare him your voice if he calls? Maybe you would. But the thought of the possibility of you not doing so hurt more than it would hurt if it actually came to reality. He just waited. Until you would wind down. Or maybe you weren't even mad. Maybe he just thought you were. He didn't know. You were kind. You were sweet. You were helpful. You were merciful. You were a damn angel he had just in his palms until a while ago. You had watered his heart 'til it grew, you just grew a little smarter too. You came to your senses. You left him. You broke up with him. He wasn't blaming you. He knew that he was neglecting, he was manipulating you, that he was only holding you back from an actually great life. And as he let you go, he just felt a void inside him. And eventually, he grew impatient, he grew sick of waiting for you to come back. He kept watering his own heart, he made it bloom, just for you. But you didn't look back at him. You had moved on. And now, he was desparate. He picked the phone up, dialing your number, waiting anxiously.

"Come on, pick up..."