Reasons for why I don't call you

I don't call you because I'm glad to be rid of you.
I don't call you because I called you yesterday
I don't call you because I'm desperately in love with you.
I don't call you because I don't want you to think that I'm desperately in love with you.

I don't call you because together we could save Darfur, Mumbai, Somalia, straighten out North Korea, and convince Bill Gates to have mercy on us all - but you might hurt me.
I don't call you because I called you last week.
I don't call you because I want to save you.
I don't call you because if I save you, who will save me?

I don't call you because whenever we make contact I am instantly asphyxiated.
I don't call you because you've had abortions.
I don't call you because you might kill me.
I don't call you because you twist between every single one of my vertibrae

I don't call you because I want to be there to pick up the pieces of your heart which someone else broke.
I don't call you because I'm not sure.
I don't call you because I lost my phone.
I don't call you because you nest inside my clavicle.

I don't call you because you're 35.
I don't called you because you're 30.
I don't call you because you're 21.
I don't call you because you don't call me.

I don't call you because you're infintely smarter than most.
I don't call you because I have to fake that I'm talking about more than one person on this blog, when I'm really just talking about you, in order to satiate my pride/insecurity.
I don't call you because I know I'm not the one for you, and I never want to hear you say it.
I don't call you because I love the way your hands shake - and that's weird.

I don't call you because I'm a slave to my neuroses.
I don't call you because I could be your laundry line; hang your things on me.
I don't call you because I'm badass, too cool for crushes.
I don't call you because I must be called first.

I don't call you because of the still.
I don't call you because I am nothing but a ghostly noose.
I don't call you because it frustrates me that I can't cup your chin to my mouth and kiss you, even if you were two inches away from me, my hands and mouth would be too frozen to respond to the nerve impulses from my brain.
I don't call you because of awkward antlers.
I don't call you because I don't know where your garden is.
I don't call you because it might make me too happy.
I don't call you because you might have a map of me.
I don't call you because I have to pretend I don't care.