When you hold my hands, I cannot tear myself apart.
It really is that simple.
I could claim it is your beauty, your wit and your smile
but while you do possess all of those, they’re not the reason why.
Not the way you laugh or joke around.
Not the way you jump or dance about.
Not the way you talk, sing, or shout.
Yes, all of those before, but then I found out
that when you hold me close, I cannot tear myself apart.
In the haven of your arms, I find shelter for the storm in my head.
Safe from myself and the war in my mind
that tries to claim me as a casualty.
You keep me together, and give me the strength
to stop myself from falling to pieces.
You take away the need to run my nails into my arms
and draw red lines whose only purpose is to be hidden.
So please, hold me tight, and I will not tear myself apart.