I wish you needed me, now. I wanted you to not be able to live without me. I wanted you to need to talk to me, to need my voice, to need my comfort.
I want you to be strong enough on your own, and yet still choose to need me and prefer it rather than not.
But we don’t get these things. I don’t get them, I don’t get much. The flicker of passing friends. An empty day that I can’t do anything but think of you and look at you and re-read all you’ve said.
I wish you chose to need me.