seagul lovers

The exes that I love are like seagulls, they like to take from me when they're finished, they leave. Chipping away at the pieces of myself, leaving nothing but chicken salt at the base of a flimsy cardboard carton 

My mum says I'm one in a million but if I am so rare like a jewel why don't people want me?

I want to be addictive like a cigarette, you taking long slow gentle drags of me, spending a fortune on me, taking me everywhere. 

I want to be in a poem, 

I want someone to write poetry about me. 

I want to be important to someone. 

The people that I used to love were seagulls, flying gently in the sky idolising the uninterested, grossly thieving my attachment after what we have shared after they land to take and fly away. Once again leaving me on the bench at the harbour waiting for a message in a bottle. Of a sign that says 

I want you to stop waiting, and then on that day that will likely never come, 

I will leave the harbour. 

I want to be addictive to someone, anyone. 

I don't want to be alone.

Am I lonely?