A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

I make a list
of lists to make:
reasons you would not want me
reasons I would not want you
reasons I would not want anyone
reasons I couldn’t do this even if we wanted to
There’s logic to it. I think your introspective,
analytical brain would appreciate my methodology.
I cannot bring myself to make the lists I’d like to see
(pore over, interpolate and extrapolate):
reasons I do want you
reasons you might want me
reasons we could actually work out.
I fear that a visual representation of the data
would be the impetus needed for me to be honest
with you
about my darkest fantasy yet:
the one in which I tell you to stay
and you do. 
I fear that this is the fantasy that makes you laugh,
the one that makes you look at me as though I’m 
a few beers short of a pub, and in that moment
everything we’ve shared becomes tainted by this moment. 
I could list the reasons I don’t want to risk this. 
But instead I start listing the books I want to read next year,
and the receipts I need to find for my tax accountant.