I wish I didn’t love you
and I wish your lips
would stop
dripping poison
because I can’t help but touch them,

and I wish your heart was softer
and you learned how to kiss your mother goodnight,
and I wish you didn’t try
to **** yourself last May,
and I wish they’d let you leave this place,
because I’d like to hear your voice
even though I wish I didn’t.
You belong here,
with me,
even though I wish
that I never loved you
and I never let you sleep with your arms around me
or tell me how you think,
how you wished,
and you hoped that one day
you could love me, too.

I wish I knew how to say goodbye,
you can’t love me,
and there’s nothing romantic about that.