Another Chick on His Call-list

Seeing you isn’t right but I’m sick
of being alone. You make me feel wanted.
Like I’m actually pretty. Like I have something.
So I’m using you to fill my vessel
with the attention you give me. But I wrestle
with the days you don’t text. Your silence screams
when two days become three, then six becomes a week.
Am I just another chick on your call list?
Please don’t let me be another chick on your call list.
I wish we were something classic: hand holding,
heart th-thudding, nerves sizzling sort of romantic.
And that time you told me I overthink shit,
that stung because you don’t seem to give enough shits.
I tell myself to forget you and when
I’m all convinced, you text and I’m filled with butterflies again.
We’re two people who started with an attraction
that was genuine and real. But we’ve become a has-been.
We’re friends with benefits but I’m not benefitting.
I’m left with feelings and wonderings….
…if I cross your mind sometimes or often…
…if your stomach flips when my texts come in…
…if this is the “us” you imagined…
Seeing you isn’t right but I’m sick
of being alone. You make me feel wanted.
Like I’m actually pretty. Like I have something.