The best feeling in the world
Is reading
A poem
That speaks to your soul.
That drags out the most unknown parts of your being,
And settles them
In your heart
And puts that sparkle
In your eyes.
And yet,
It will leave you unsettled.
As you hang there,
With all these feelings
That you could never put a name to.

I wish I could stop shaking.

And as I sit here, curled around myself,
holding myself together,
I wish someone was here.
Anyone.

Well, maybe not just anyone.
There is a certain someone that tends to
creep into my thoughts at this hour of the night.
But not in a voyeuristic way.

I just want him to hold me.
Just to hold me,
to sit with me.
To feel the pressure of another,
holding me,
wanting me,
valuing my fragile humanity,
keeping me warm,
holding me together.

To stop the frantic nature of my pounding pulse,
that I feel though out my entire body.
Not to make it stop.
I do not want to die this young.
Just to make it slow,
so even the smallest motions,
do not feel as though
I am getting ready to run a marathon.

One time you did hold me,
and I hadn't been held in such a long time.
I was almost desperate, so desperate,
for the human touch,
and you obliged.

I am not ashamed to admit
that just like everyone else in this world,
just like any other human.
That I have wants.
That I have needs.
And right now,
holding myself together,
under the weight of the pressures of my own mind
and the world around me.
If I had a wish
that could be granted right now,
I would wish that you would be here.
With me.

Yes.
Being held,
just for a while,
would indeed,
be nice.