I want to be good for you but I cannot help when the waves of self imposed tragedy come crashing down over my head. I cannot help the tear-stained 2 AMs or the empty afternoons spent staring out a window at a brick wall.

I want to be good for you but I never know how to say it. I don’t know how to put together three little words. I don’t know what to do when that trio looms over my head, monstrous in expectancy. I don’t know if that’s a burden I can place on your shoulders or one you can afford to bear.

I want to be good for you but my hands are too small and clumsy and I can never fit anything together the right way. I’m certain to break something I shouldn’t, something fragile and rare.

I want to be good for you but it’s not something they taught me in school. Perhaps it’s something I could’ve learned from the palms of lovers past but they were all indistinct flickers, ripples in an ever-moving ocean. Never constant enough to hold.

I want to be good for you, but I keep finding ‘buts,’ keep scraping for excuses, keep scrabbling away from the light.

I want to be good for you but I’m scared because then I’ll have something to lose.

I want to be good for you but can I trust you to be good for me?