sometimes i think about
how it would be
to be
in someone's arms
whenever i felt like it
like a kind of
lilting tune
that beckons, draws in
draws out
complications
i don't want love
and all that comes zig-zagging after it
i just want to be held.
maybe my mom didn't hold me enough as a child
i mean
she had a lot of kids to hold
i guess
maybe the funny, quirky redheaded one
didn't get a chance
maybe i'm one of those people
who will grow up deranged
because my parents let me cry at night
instead of rocking me
holding me
comforting me
i learned to
rock myself
back and forth
my arms holding
my knees
comforting
the empty valley
in my chest
badly
because i never
learned
how.