Here we sit at the table,
of our life,
of our home.

It is just you and me,
to say what we feel,
to grow.

I want you to listen,
to my words,
without judgment.

I want you to see my struggles,
without opinions,
without trying to fix them.

I want you to see my struggles,
motivating me,
without pushing me to resolve them.

I wish for you to trust me,
without burdening me,
without demands.

I wish for you to help me,
without deciding for me.

I wish for you to care for me,
to protect me,
without erasing me.

I wish for you to look at me,
without projections,
without fear.

I wish for you to love me,
without suffocating me,
without binding me.

I want you to protect me,
without lies,
but with a true heart.

I want you to hold me,
not out of possession,
not by taking responsibility for me.

I wish for you to walk beside me,
without invading,
without controlling.

I wish for you to accept me,
every dark part of me,
without trying to change it.

I want us to see our struggles,
with empathy,
with solidarity.

I want that after every battle,
there is no resentment,
but peace reigns instead.

I wish for you to tell me everything you feel,
even the things that trouble you.

I want you to know,
that everything I ask of you,
I can give in return.

I wish for you to know,
that you can always count on me.

I’ve written words needed but unwanted,
As one who fights a war of last resort,
Disrespecting heartbreaks that I flaunted
While shaping memories I could distort.

Those unwanted poems that I needed,
All written in defiance of my nerve,
Every one of them should be deleted—
I still don’t know what purpose that they serve.

I cursed my hand so it would write no more,
But the words fought battles of attrition,
Oozing out as if from an open sore,
To heal the despair of my condition.

I’ve no desire to ever return to
The places my words so often bring me.
But it seems writing them I learn to
Appreciate the gift of being me.