I wish
my words
could grow arms
that embrace
your aching bones
to a staggering tremble
of flooding emotions
and weeping flesh
of love.

I wish
my writing
was a sturdy staircase
that allowed you
to climb
to your safest haven
away
from your relentless
infliction.

I wish
I could purge
your every wound
the way
your poetry
has released
my misery.

I wish
my blood
had merit.