“I need to get ahold of myself” I say, scolding myself for wanting (and forgetting what I’m needing).

The warmth of your arm.
The love of a friend.

I am confused in my needing, my yearning;

I have dreamt of being on the floor, and you offering your arm to me.
Yes, how whole it must feel, to be cared for with love.
How warm it is in my dream.