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.