I wish you would ask to come over.

But I would deny you, push you away.
I would tell you:
My tears yearned company then,
they request solitude now.

I wish you would call.

But I'd tell you to continue your life without allowing me to interrupt
That if you wanted to talk, to my face would have been better

I wish you would come hug me
But I'm not sure my knees me stay strong
I'm not sure I want to be hugged

I wish you would kiss me

But I would give the same dead lips you'd given me all day.
You wouldn't let me in then, why must I do differently?

Or would I? Would I truly do any of this or am I full of hot air and promises?

Instead would I just limp down my same tired path, thinking this but still accepting, ultimately, what I want?