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Arms That Hold
September 6, 2009
These arms they hold me,
pull me close.
Wrapped around so tight
almost as though they hold me together.
They do.
I am finally safe,
needed,
even wanted.
In these arms I wish to stay,
never to move.
Held lovingly
so that I will not break.
All is well.
My heart safe,
trapped between us
beating soft and steady.
And then I open my eyes.
All is gone.
Reality has come.
This is why I do not slumber.
Spare me the stress.
I deny to close my eyes
and open the door
to the painful comfort
of lonely dreams.
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