you are my confession

i was 19 and crying in a green boohoo dress
it was 3am on the northern line and you came.
you came said I can’t leave you like this
I can’t I can’t just sit here while you cry
I can’t just leave it alone.

and so you stopped to hold me up,
to put your hand around my shoulder.
and when everything was so
wrong you were right there.

saying it’ll get better you have no idea
how much better it will get.
and asked what stop is yours?
you waited with me until that stop and gave me your number
if i needed to talk again okay?

scrap paper like scripture
like something beyond biblical and i confess,
you are my confession.

i wish you'd taken me with you!!!
i wish i could have walked through the door with you
and drank dead tap water with you
and watched a silly show with you
and looked a childhood photos of you
and maybe your graduation certificate
and felt you near me all night.
feel the squeeze of your hand, all night.

and i told no one.
how could i tell anyone about you?
about this woman, this woman
this real life fully formed woman.
who i saw and who saw me and who cared
who really really cared who cared enough to stop,
say hey? tell me what to do,
please, will you tell me what to do?