I don't like to be touched,
so I avoid letting people hug me.
I don't want them to realize how tense I am;
I don't want them to notice
that my muscles are hard as rock,
and full of grooves,
and constantly contorted out of shape.

I don't want them to know I am in pain,
and they are my medication.
I don't want to get addicted
to the temporary solution
brought about by a love that will not last.

I don't want to cling
to the embrace of a friend,
while telling myself
I will never find the love I truly seek.

And, for a while, that all worked out fine;
I became immune to the throbbing,
and the pain of anxious tension;

I was able to hide
behind the mask of indifference,
and in doing so I grew numb;
but, after more time had passed,

I grew colder;
the space between my two empty arms
grew more vast, and the heat dissipated, and
now I feel so heavy, and slow, and tired;

now I can no longer walk this path alone;
now I need a hand to hold;
now I need these arms
to be filled in yours, elusive lover.

Please find me... I am hurt...