Pick up the phone and call me. Is your phone broken? Is mine? Let me check. Damn it, it's working. I like when you call. It makes me smile all over. It makes me feel a little bit safer. Pick up the phone and call me because I can't call you, then you'd know I like you, you'd know I was thinking about you. God, if you knew how much I was thinking about you, you might not pick up the phone ever. You'd think I was crazy. I might be. But not in a bad way, in a way that you'd be like, "damn, I'm lucky this girl is crazy for me." Which I'm not, not yet. But I could be. Pick up the phone and call me because my phone misses your number being in it's call log. Oh wait, it's in there from a couple days ago. Was it a couple days ago? It feels like longer. That means you should pick up the phone and call me because it's about that time. Pick up the phone and call me, tell me you were thinking of me, tell me you might maybe miss me, tell me something else about you. Something I don't know. Something no one knows. I like when you do that. I like when you share. So pick up the phone and call me so I can see your name pop up on the screen, can let my senses do all they will do just at the sight of your name. They will remember in any way they can, trust me. Pick up the phone and call me. I know you called yesterday, but I want you to pick up the phone and call me now...and maybe tomorrow too.
That bitch stole my line,