My heart is like my phone

I carry it with me always.

It’s scratched and cracked

I am always using it,

Looking to it for advice.

Old people look at me as if they’ve never known these things-

But they know.

Even though it’s different now, it is the same.

It wants me to contact this girl and that one.

Once I handed it to a lover

And she dropped it.

A nasty chip cracked across the top

But I can still use it

Only, every time I do,

I see the crack and I think of her.

In the cold and lonely nights, I know it’s there,

I run my hand across and feel it.

I know you have one too, I hear it in the quiet of the morning.

Call me so I have your number.