You make me...

You gave me something nobody else ever has.

You ask so little, and so much... you want me forever, you want me to trust you, and you want me to love you. I think I do, so I say... I love you, te iubesc, je t'aime. I think I do. You never judge me and we can argue.

I'm on my period, and I worry about having cancer but I am so happy that you made me do that.

You are reassuring.

I want to wrap you up and feed you wholesome things, stop you drinking so much, make you calm.

Can alcoholics drink moderately? I don't know if you can.

That baby, left in an orphanage because it was illegitimate. Until you were five. Just because of your parents. Your Mum not looking after you. Your Grandma, who beat you so much, but whom you loved. Nobody ever telling you that they loved you (oh, darling). Your having nobody. How did you become so lovely, then?  How did you manage that? You were homeless, you're an alcoholic. You're not pleased with your life but you are so sweet to me. How did you become as you are?