i called to tell you that
i don't love you as much as i thought i did.
i want someone to heal me
in the permanent way
i have never been able to stick a band-aid over.
i want someone to make me real
in the way that pinching my forearm has never
accomplished.
mostly,
i want someone to teach me
that man is not inherently evil
that the good in the world sticks to your lips
after goodnight kisses
i want someone to restore
whatever childlike wonder i let go of,
to pick out the resentment in me like shards of broken glass
and make me a whole person.
i have tried to tie my loose ends together,
i come apart like a fitted bed-sheet,
like trying over and over again,
like falling just short.
i called to tell you that,
if i think hard enough,
if i make my head less cloudy,
if i stop pretending,
i do not love you.
but i want so badly, so selfishly for you to love me,
to fix me,
and i called to tell you that it's just because
i don't think i can do it all by myself.