I’m trying to figure out why I want to hear your voice.
I don’t want to be with you.
I don’t want to be near you.
I don’t want to be in your arms,
And I certainly don’t want to be
Your punching bag.
So then why, when I feel the warmth
Of fear, despair, regret, anxiety
Creeping up in my chest…
…Why do I want to run to you?
You were never my protector,
You were never my guardian.
Maybe the person I’m running back to,
Is just the version of me I left behind.
Maybe I want to talk her, ask her,
What I could of done differently.
How did you get through this?
How did you survive?
Maybe I just want to have someone
To rely on,
To confide in,
To feel safe with.
Or maybe I’m overthinking.
And what I really want,
Is what I can’t have.