If I could connect the dots of goosebumps you get when I scratch your back, maybe it would make a map showing me where to go from here.

If you asked me to stay like you ask me to not stop scratching your back, maybe I couldn't resist you then either.

If I had a flashy screen and an explosive soundtrack like an xbox game, maybe you'd want to play with me more.

If I were as rich and sweet as a bowl of your favorite ice cream, maybe you'd have to have every last bit of me and crave me long after I'm gone.

If cancer hadn't destroyed essential pieces of my womanhood, maybe I could give you what you tell me you want to fill me with.

If you could explain to me the reasons you only sporadically intertwine your life with mine, maybe I could stop imagining the worst possible things about myself that must be keeping you from intermingling our lives.