I don't know why I called.
I wanted you to be mad,
to suffer, to feel sad.
I wanted to see what you'd say,
if you would apologize.
OK, I admit it.
I also wanted to
hear your voice.
I was curious.
But your tears...
I didn't count on them.
It's not easy for me
to listen to a man cry.
You touched something
deep inside and made me feel
for you again, and
in that moment,
I absolved you of
all you were guilty for,
would have done anything
to stop your tears.
You've been through
a lifetime of pain in
a few short months,
and damn, if I don't
still care about you.
I just wanted to
give you a hug,
take away some pain.
I know now that
you wouldn't hurt me,
not on purpose.
You're just a big man
with a confused little boy
trapped somewhere inside.
I understand
the language of tears,
and if I could,
I'd take all of yours away,
if I only knew that
you wouldn't keep
making mine flow.