Paradox

tell me what you're mad at me for
so I can atone
I need to be held but
perhaps God knows
my hands are closed
to that kind of blessing
that my heart isn't primed 
for love and for trusting
I see a paradox in me
I want the ribbon 
not the race
the idea
the almost 
the chase
it's late
and I'm overthinking 
lonely and
if I actually wanted someone to hold me
wouldn't I call a friend?