I often wish you met me first.

If only we met before
they gave you promises of desire
they were never sure they'd keep,
before they used you
to fill their boredom in between.
I wish there was a way you'd
let yourself love me,
or try to.

I want to give you
anything and everything
you could ask for.
But you only strip off the parts
that you feel can't hurt you.
I can only guess that
the part of you that wants me too
is the same part that doesn't want to
lose yourself in someone else like them.

I just wish you met me first.