I wish I could tell her

that he isn’t who she thinks.

The hateful wall outside him

is only one part of who he is

but the only part she sees.

I wish I could show her

That beyond the slammed doors and harsh words

he’s late night jokes and tickle fights

and talking longer than he should.

 

I wish I could tell her

not to tell her friends to stay away from him

because of the way he is at home

where he can’t change who he is

because she’ll only see what he was.

 

I wish it didn’t take so long

for her to let go of her hate

to look past what she saw

and see what was really there.

Now, I wish we had more time.

I hugged you two days ago

for the first time in years.

I wish I could tell her how nice it feels

and warn her that someday she’d run out of time.