in another life,
i want to be your phone.

i would light up in your eyes,
and you would suppress a smile
as you tickle my body with your thumbs.
in the morning,
i would wake up beside you,
your fingers still wrapped around me
like the night before.
at night,
i would have your full attention.
you will play with me in bed,
even as your lids grow heavy.
when you don't sense me close,
it would send your heart racing with unease.
when i ring for your attention,
you will look for me immediately.

"in another life, i want to be your phone,"
i say,
looking up into your eyes.

"that's silly,"
you respond,
looking down at your phone.

sometimes,
when our home feels too big,
i would glance at the wall
between our bedrooms.
i would trace the faded
pencil markings where
we used to mark how tall
we've grown each year.
i would crane my neck
and imagine how tall you'd be
if you were home right now.
i would never say i miss you,
but the traces of you at home
makes this place a house
deprived of warmth.

i killed my succulent today.
its leaves swelled, mushed,
and lost its vibrant green hue.
its body began to separate,
and plop lifeless on my windowsill.
i never know when to stop giving.
i give and give too much.
i didn't allow my love time
to dry out between waterings.
i wish it knew the depth of my heart,
that i never meant to make its roots rot,
but i give and give too much.

to her, love is a limited resource
there's not much to give around
you save some for family and friends
but there is rarely a return on investment
love is scarce through her lens
so, when you offer her just a little
she cannot help but cry
at the interest accrued