Warm embrace

You wait for that warm embrace.

You anticipate it.

Like a hug.

Like a "it'll be okay".

Like an end of the day that you need.

You truly need.

Wonder,

What if that embrace you need.

That feeling in the sand.

The warm sand as you wiggle back and forth.

That divot you make for yourself.

The one you need to make for yourself.

For. Yourself.

Because the feel, the feel, no one else can make it.

(Not the way you want anyway.)

The warm sand; a cradle.

That feeling you always sought.

No one else seems to get it quite right.

Not the kiss.

The right kiss.

The kiss you need.

Not even the fucking hug that you need.

When you need. That you need.

It's that warm bath to the soul.

That hug you always needed from mom.

Wanted from mom.

You might not get.

Mom needs what mom needs and she'll never get.

Because,

Now she can't.

Can't fucking can't.

And you ate that last piece of pizza.

And WARMed it up.

Olives. Delicious.

That feeling was a little warm.

But as you laid on the couch.

You wanted more.

More warmth.

More at least something.

Sought more.

At least something.

That you probably won't get.

But you'll still look.

Like the warmth of the tears.

The same tears as now.

Though a different couch.

Though really the same tears.