I fear the arms of love and comfort.

I do not fear them as if they mean harm,
As truly no such harm can be meant from
Love and Comfort.

I fear them because if they wrap around me,
They will discover how broken I am.

They will uncover how small I have become and how broken I am.

I fear them because they will shed light on
Me-
And my pitiful existence.

If the arms of my love were around me,
I would implode in on myself
Like a poorly made bomb.

Nothing would be safe as my scream of
Wishful comfort
Projects out of the kicked puppy of my soul.

The irony is that the only thing that will ever repair my dejected self,
Is the arms of love and comfort.