I sit here, outside,
until I’m ready
to sit there, inside
I feel like tangled-up wires,
all pulling;
I’ll wait until they feel more settled.
You saw me here the last time, you said
you were happy to see me,
did I want to be on my own?
I said Yes (but I’m lonely and afraid
and will you be my friend and
CRAP did I say that out loud?),
thank you for asking.
Regret.
Next time I’ll say:
Yes. Do you want to be alone together?
(Alone is my favourite kind of together.)