I write bad poetry that makes me feel good.

What I want from you:

You said,
“What do you want from me?”
last Tuesday, after midnight
I didn’t answer you
what do you say to that?
But I’ve had some time to think

I want you free time,
not even all of it
maybe just most of it
we can spend all day doing nothing together

I want your stray thoughts
they should be all for me
not just occasionally
definitely constantly
I want you obsessed with the idea of me

And all your daydreams
should be of you and me
doing “couple things”
making promises
build an imaginary house for us to live in

Give me your future
I’ll plan your destiny
fill every day with me
it will be bright and clean
I claim every tomorrow until one of us forgets to breathe

I want your hands
all over me
or simply clasped in mine
they should belong to me
I will memorize the lines across your fingertips

I want your good intentions
I want your grumpy face
I want your joys and disappointments and secret hopes
I want your babies
I want to see what you are like when you are 83

You said,
“What do you want from me?”
last Tuesday, after midnight
I didn’t answer you
What am I supposed to say?
You don’t want what I want anyway