Favorite call

Everybody calls

when they need something.

You call and say,

"Nothing...

just wanted your voice."

Yeah.

That's different.

Everybody gets the useful me.

The answer guy.

The "send it over, I'll look."

The one who knows

how to make bad news sound good.

I got people who know my title

better than they know my week.

Know exactly when they need me.

Couldn't tell you how I sleep.

That's life.

I ain't bitter.

Just learned what comes with being dependable.

Everybody loves a strong back

until they forget that thing is bendable.

Then you call.

No emergency.

No favor hiding in hello.

Just windshield noise behind your voice,

"Had ten minutes.

Thought I'd call."

And I swear,

you can tell me absolutely nothing.

What somebody wore.

What pissed you off.

Why your lunch sucked.

Some story with twelve unnecessary details

you forget halfway through.

And somehow that's the first time all day

I don't feel like

I have to be useful.

You don't need the answer.

Don't need the version

everybody knows.

You just want me on the other end.

That's probably why

I never wanna let you go.

You're my favorite call.

No reason at all.

No problem to solve.

No one to impress.

You don't need the strong one.

Don't need what's left

after everybody gets their piece.

You just want my voice.

I just want yours.

And for a few damn minutes...

the whole world doesn't need me.

You're my favorite call.

That's all.

That's everything.

"What'd you need?"

Nothing.

Perfect.

You know when "I'm tired"

means leave it alone.

Know when it means,

"Stay on the phone."

Know when I'm talking too fast

I'm probably avoiding something.

And when I go quiet,

you don't fill every second

just because silence feels uncomfortable.

That's rare.

You don't turn confession

into ammunition later.

Never make me regret

giving you the unedited data.

You've seen me pissed off.

Seen me ashamed.

Seen me get good news

and somehow feel nothing.

Seen me stare straight through dinner

'cause my head's still running.

And you don't hit me with,

"Cheer up."

Don't give me motivational bullshit.

Sometimes you say,

"Yeah...

that sounds heavy."

Then sit there with me.

That's love to me.

Not fixing.

Not saving.

Not needing me polished.

Just knowing exactly who called

when my name showed up

and still wanting the conversation.

Everybody else loves

what I can carry.

You somehow love me

when I put it down.

You're my favorite call.

No reason at all.

No problem to solve.

No one to impress.

You don't need the strong one.

Don't need what's left

after everybody gets their piece.

You just want my voice.

I just want yours.

And for a few damn minutes...

the whole world doesn't need me.

You're my favorite call.

That's all.

That's everything.

And some nights...

"just wanted your voice"

sounds a little different.

One picture.

That look.

Then you say,

"Why'd you get quiet?"

You know why.

Same woman who talked twenty minutes

about somebody cutting her off in traffic

can change the whole damn temperature

with two words

after midnight.

That's us too.

Soft ain't boring.

Safe ain't dull.

Sometimes knowing somebody completely

is exactly what makes

wanting them hit harder.

You're my favorite call.

Middle of the day.

Middle of the night.

No script.

No performance.

Just your voice finding mine.

You don't need the hero.

Don't need me larger than life.

You know the man

everybody else gets after.

And somehow...

you still want the one underneath.

You're my favorite call.

No reason at all.

Maybe that's why

it means everything.

"What'd you call for?"

Nothing.

Yeah.

Call me again tomorrow.