My hand hovering above him, I hesitate.
There is a glint in his eye. 
Slowly I pick him up, just feel the weight.
We always meet when I feel hopeless, he promises so much, absolution, complete freedom and yet, I cannot seem to fully accept. I refuse him; deny.

 He somewhat quells my despair.
Roaming up and down my skin.
Tending to me when I can't let anyone else in.
Arms, legs, chest stomach, especially a thigh.
To me, he feels at home there.
 Never does he question; ask why.
He's always ready; on standby.