[Intro] “You not listening.” I said, “Yes the fuck I am.” She said, “No. You're waiting to talk.” Then— click. [Verse 1] Phone screen went black, my reflection staring back pissed. I almost called immediately just to finish what I ain't finish. That's ego. Ego hate unfinished fights. It would rather burn the whole damn house than let somebody sleep one night. Argument started stupid. She said I've been distant again. I said, “I'm working for us.” She said, “Here we fucking go again.” Same defense. Same armor. Same “you don't understand.” She said, “I understand bills. I'm asking where the fuck is my man?” That hurt. So naturally? I got louder. Because wounded men sometimes raise volume when truth got them cornered. She said, “I'm not doing this with you. Call me when you calm down.” Click. Silence got louder than both of us. [Hook] Call me when you calm down. Not when you got another comeback. Not when pride still got the microphone. Call me when your heart back. Call me when you calm down. When you wanna fix, not win. Because if every conversation got a loser, how the fuck we both gon' win? Call me when you calm down. Damn. Maybe she right again. [Verse 2] I paced from kitchen to living room rehearsing arguments alone. You know you're looking fucking stupid when you're proving points to your phone. Made whiskey. Didn't drink it. Put it down. Progress. Small shit. Sat on the couch and asked myself, “What exactly made you this pissed?” Not what she said. What I heard. Big difference. She said, “I miss you.” I heard, “You're failing.” She said, “I need more.” I heard, “You ain't enough.” She said, “Talk to me.” I heard criticism. Damn. Trauma got terrible subtitles. Translate love into attacks then make your mouth become rifles. I remembered Track 10 type nights— two people sharing a mattress, lonely. I don't want a future where we coexist but don't fucking know me. [Pre-Chorus] Being right feel powerful for about five minutes. Then you look around the room and realize nobody won shit. [Hook] Call me when you calm down. Not when you got another comeback. Not when pride still got the microphone. Call me when your heart back. Call me when you calm down. When you wanna fix, not win. Because if every conversation got a loser, how the fuck we both gon' win? Call me when you calm down. Damn. Maybe she right again. [Verse 3] One-forty-eight. I called. She answered quiet. “What?” I said, “I ain't calling to continue. I'm calling because I heard you tonight.” She ain't say nothing. So I kept going. “I've been present physically and absent everywhere that matter. I keep thinking paying everything means feelings shouldn't matter. That's bullshit. You deserve both. You deserve the man and provider. And every time you ask for connection I shouldn't call you a fighter.” She breathed. Then said, “Okay.” That's it. Not movie shit. No instant forgiveness. Just “okay.” Because sometimes trust don't explode back. It returns molecule by molecule. [Bridge] Then she said, “My turn. I come at you hard sometimes because I wait too long to speak. I let resentment stack up then unload the whole fucking week.” There it was. Two grown people. No hero. No villain. Just two people fucking up communication and finally getting willing. [Final Hook] Call me when you calm down. Now I know what that means. Not “stop having feelings.” Just stop weaponizing everything. Call me when you calm down. When love gets the microphone. We don't gotta solve it tonight. We just can't make pain our home. Call me when you calm down. Baby, I'm calmer now. “Good.” “You coming over?” “Maybe.” Damn. Still got attitude. [Outro] She text: “Bring food.” There she go.
