By Aastha Nagi
How do i tell you. How do i tell you it all.
I have this aching desire to be held, without asking for it, even though i am, all the time, through my eyes. But you dont see it. I have this aching desire to be known, to feel hands inside my throat and my soul trying to find the buried pieces of me, trying to surface them so they can be kissed. I have this aching desire to belong, to mean, to be valued. And even though i will not think twice before having some ones blood on my hands, i crumble the second any on is kind to me. Not because i can not believe i would be worthy of kindness, but because i have never experienced it. I have never experienced softness, tenderness, ive only ever shown it. And god do i want to be touched too. And i know i am meant for it. I know i am meant for greater things for greater humans who are humane enough to know what it means with that four letter word. I want, so desperately, to be loved. Once. to be held. In arms. Your arms. Touch me, and i will crumble and melt into you. Not in sad dying way because i hold my pride close to me too but in a way that you now have me inside you, to you, and dosent that make you stronger? Less lonely? More fuller?
Touch me and i will crumble and melt into you like a little girl, god if you can not say it send me a piece of paper, tell me what street i need to go to, tell me the number of the lanes,, take me home. I beg of you. Take me home. Take me somewhere it is safe. Somewhere accepting of storms with the tenderness of a calm moon night. Take me. Just take me. I need to go, i have been running for as long as i can remember, why am i not getting anywhere home god. You must have it written down in one of your drawers i know you must have. Tell me of it. Send it to me.
Somewhere i can be held, and i can melt, and i can cry and i can crumble and shatter but she would still see the light that shines upon every broken piece of my mirrorball pieces. somewhere i can weep in arms, arms that know my stars, and their fire when they burn, arms that hold me knowing they can never hold my power, my glory my wit, arms that hold me despite of my destruction, the destructing inside me and the destruction that has left its blood on my hands. arms safe enough i do not disappoint my pride. Arms wide eyed enough to see the aching tears of this desperate desire in my dry hooded eyes. Arms that know i am not weak yet hold me like the most delicate creature that is so fragile, as if it will fall apart into a million pieces if they let go. Because it will. It will also pick it self up again, but god yes it will. Fall apart into a million pieces if it does not find these arms. Arms aware of what they are holding, arms aware of their honor and privilege that they get to hold this woman. Arms that know and yet they still dont let go.
Arms of a person who does not think all this before they decide to wrap their arms around my battered body, arms of a person who does not think any of it at all, but feels it unknowingly and has the default nature humane urge and awareness and desire to hold me. Arms of a person who desires to hold me just as much as I want to be held.
I want to be loved i want to love i want to go home
By Aastha Nagi
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