Sing to me?

(Very fucking old poem. Wrote this about three years ago. Still worth a post, I guess?)
I gave you my new number,
simply because I miss you
and because I miss our long conversations
about nothing at all.
I was expecting you to call,
but when you did
I was surprised.
I tried to hold back the tears,
I fought to choke back
the words I knew would end it.
You've found someone else,
and your having his baby.
You seem to be happy,
but under your breath,
I know you better than that.
I know who you are,
I know what you look like
on the inside.
You're not happy,
you're still needing something.
I wish that something was me.
I gasp for air,
for I have been holding my breath,
trying to hold back the tears.
Then I ask,
"Do you still sing?"
And you answered,
"Yes, why?"
With such confusion in your tone.
I paused,
I thought,
should I ask?
And I did.
"Sing to me?"
And you didn't giggle,
but I heard you smile.
There was silence,
lasted only seconds,
but felt like hours.
Then you sang.
Your sweet voice,
weakens my knees when you talk alone,
but when you sing.
It drives me insane.
Then I realize,
I am what you need.
I am what you're still longing for.
But even after this,
I can't bring myself to say,
I still love you,
please come home...