She just wanted a hug. She just wanted someone to love her. Someone she felt safe with and be in their arms. But none would touch her, like she was some disease. Her touch was a drug that she would never feel.
Away, away, she screamed her pain. This world was not her home. It was a prison that held her soul. She waited for the day she could finally be home, and maybe she could walk through that door in her lover’s arms.
A hug, just a hug. A simple embrace. One not given, but yea, asked for. An easy request, but not for the dead. At least death would embrace her.
Cried, she cried, till sunset was dawn. But no one heard her cry- for the ear she turned to was deaf. She looked in the window and there was someone home, but no one answered- the door was locked, lights turned off.
Pain, pain, she wanted to be held. She wanted the pain to be held away. She reached for her haven’s hand, but it melted away and was no more. Alone, alone, she sobbed till numb.
“Look, look!” she cried so one’s eyes would turn her way, they saw but did not speak, no hug was given, though, yea, plead for.
Deep, deep, in the ground she lie, for love hast killed her, yea, though she tried.
And now her hand was held- for her not to feel.
Tears were shed, but not for her pain.
A hug was given- though, yea, not out of love.
Love not quenched is a tomb stone of its own.