My young arms held around him tight.  
I couldn't say what was wrong.  
I was raised that being weak was stupid and to always be strong.  
So I held him tight.  
Wanting to cry but not going too.  
All the issues going on.  
Sometimes I wish I could bury myself.  
But there in his arms I felt safe.  
Like my mother's arms before old age came and took away her mind to never land.  
I hadn't felt this way in a long time.  
Secure
Wanted
I held him tight.  
He didn't say anything.  Just stayed with me.  
And with that.  
I let out my first tear in years.