For so long I thought it was about me. I thought
the way I was, who I turned out to be
wasn’t what he hoped. Wasn’t what he wanted.
Now I’ve gone to talk to a stranger and he’s helped me
sort out my head from my heart and the chemicals
from who I am.
Yes, I’ve talked about you. Of course I talked about you.
It’s been brought to my attention,
after laying out the people in your life,
and mine, what the problem is.
Of course his help in the seat across from mine,
for one hour at a time, didn’t hurt.
It turns out you’ve never known what love was.
You didn’t know it wasn’t just in smiles,
and hugs and warm thoughts when you see me.
I’m sorry you never found out it was holding someone
when they’re sick and there’s no way to feel better.
I’m sorry you never found out it was caring about someone
even when they’re not in the same room as you,
or on the phone when you’ve finally had time
to pick it up.
For so long, I thought it was about me.
But it turns out, it was always about you.
It’s a misfortune that I depended on you,
and you just didn’t know how to be there.