He wraps himself around you,
as if shielding you from the cold,
and suddenly you can’t move.
It’s not as if you want to go,
but almost immediately, you know
that leaving his arms would hurt.
And you’re so tired of hurt
and the painful things around you
that even though you just know
eventually you’ll be back out in the cold,
you tell yourself, “He’ll never go,”
and you just don’t move.
But the world will still move,
and things will always hurt.
So often they just don’t go
the way they ought to (to you).
And things do get cold.
These are things everyone knows.
But what everyone doesn’t know
is the way he makes you move
towards a better you. He makes the cold
feel less biting, and the hurt
less terrifying. He does more than love you.
And perhaps there’s a chance he won’t go.
When the monsters in your mind go
bump in the night, you know
he’s heard them too. And when you
cower, he sighs, and helps you move
through the darkness and the hurt.
And he’s warm, even when he’s cold.
In time, you won’t fear cold
quite so much, and you’ll go
to the dark, even if it hurts.
And you hope one day he’ll know
what he means to you, and you’ll move,
together. And he’ll never leave you.
It hurts that there’s no way to know
whether or not life will make him go. But if he moves