Wishes

I wish I were a poet and could write my feelings into beautiful verse. It would give a purpose to it. To the pain. If I could transform it into something, anything other than what it is. If I could express it effectively, maybe, I could free myself of it.

I wish I could see. I wish you could understand. I wish I could communicate. I wish it wasn’t so hard. I wish I could shake my terror.

But, these things seem impossible. I know that they are unattainable.

It doesn’t matter. The wish is still there.

I wish we could be the way we once were.

I wish if I told you, it would make sense. I wish you would respond to me well and not with disgust.

But, wishes are not reality.