A Hug

I want a hug — not the kind from your friend that is brief and quick, or even one from your parents that feels more like an obligation than a delight. I want a hug that I can feel wrapped around my soul, picking up the pieces that lay bloody and bruised on the ground, putting them together even if they’re in the wrong spot. A hug that stops the emotion from tearing through me, gripping my heart and making me choke on the words I want to scream… but all that comes out are cries of desperation begging to be held.

I want the hug where their body heat seeps into my skin, where the comforting bruises tell me I’m needed, where it resonates within my soul, warming me from the inside out. I want it to dissolve the growing panic — the feeling of the bloody emotions clawing up my throat, forcing me to hit my knees. I want to cry, to know that I will be held without the expectation of judgment.

I want… I want to feel them holding me to the point of suffocation, pushing me into their heart until I can finally stop… taking a deep breath… the jagged wheezing telling my lungs they are allowed reprieve. A hug that reminds me I’m safe, and that safety isn’t something I have to fight for — but who can I trust with the pieces I hide even from myself?