tell me what it is you want,
the bits that make you tick
when the doors shush shut,

the want that scurries within
like some electrical current
making your skin tickle.

tell me what you feel
when he doesn’t ring back
and the phone sleeps,

an inept white brick.
tell me. go on, your head
a knot of faulty Christmas lights

and how you wish for someone
to grab your heart (not literally)
and make a home there

or just renovate it.