i love to be held. I don’t get a hug nearly as often as the average person should. I go days with out being held. Its important to have to human physical touch. with out a physical touch from another you’re liable to lose ya mind.
It was way too busy at the restaurant for the people we had staffed, and I picked a completed burger up. I held it while I turned to answer a waitress, all the while the hottest grease dripping onto my hand. It was burning me, and I held it for way too long. If I’d dropped it, I would have had to make it again, and I couldn’t afford to waste the time. My had was scorched and I don’t think it was worth it.
I held out my hand to reach his, begging him to grab it and be saved–be saved, damnit!
But I saw his face, and it was calm. He said he needed to go now, and that he was set.
he fell, and I could only look in horror as another life was never saved once again
she held her palms to the sky contemplating what move would be her next. should love define her heart and should these hands ever touch him again? Her wish was to smell his scent, hold his hand with these delicate fingers; to twist the bracelet he wore around and around again until he giggled in frustration. he would tickle her stomach and make her smile — timing and fate was never on her side. this boy she gave everything to was no longer just a boy, he was someone she cared for – quite possibly loved had she let herself. and now all that is left is his scent on her pillows and the faint vanilla she left on her own skin. the summer sky was no longer about where the path would lead but how it would end – because she knew, deep down the gut wrenching feeling that they were just at the wrong places in their lives. they fit together like two jagged pieces but the puzzle was not ready to be solved and so their love would not bloom. the flowers of summer will soon wilt as will her passion and though he may be the first boy she cared for, she knows he will not be the last. his scent still entices every nerve in her body to love, let in, and just be. but the fear of pain will forever get in the way of any type of happiness.
I held it in my mind–a belief, a dream, a song. And I worried, feared, misunderstood that I would drop it someday. I clasped tightly until I could think of nothing else, and still it slipped out of memory. And when it did, I knew it, I felt it, for the first time.
As I held your hand, I wondered if this was intimacy. Having my hands held always made me feel warm. Being held makes me feel warm. I want my hands from held to hold. Hold my hands forever. So I’ll never have to only be. . .held.
His tiny heartbeat pulsed through my hands and chest as I held on to him for dear life. The water was unforgiving, slashing at us like whips as we attempted to cross the river.
This was the third time in one week that we’d tried. By this point, I was questioning if all of it was worth it. Was it worth the grueling struggle to arrive at a place that did nothing but look down upon and humiliate you? Was it worth it to endanger the life of the little man that I currently held to my chest?
The answer is yes.
I’m doing this for him. I’m doing this for the betterment of his future. And if I had to cross a thousand rivers and evade a hoard of ravenous hunters then so be it.
I’ll do it all. Not a second thought. I’ll do it all for my little man.
I do not need your heart, tho’ I would like it. I do not need your words, tho’ I would love them. I do not need your pity or your tears or your sorrow, I would rather see them dry. And all of the feelings in the world you could not give me, even if you wanted to, even tho’ we would bathe in healing. What I need, is your arms, your chest, your body tight against mine. What I need is that secure murmur that your blood whispers when I am held.
Held at gunpoint, I started to pray. I thought it was the right thing to do. I had never been in this scar of a situation before and I definitely was not going to fight the bearded man off with my weak arms. I started praying in my mind and the words became whispers; whispers that caught my assailant off-guard. He seemed awestruck, and after some hesitation he lowered the gun slowly.
he held me in his arms we laughed I cried we danced and jumped and ate grapes and clouds we smiled and laughed we could not stop looking at each other his face was beautiful
He held me as tight as he could. As if there were nothing dividing us. We became one and that is what was the most important thing. And for that moment I was happy. Him holding me like we were never to separate. Then he was gone.
And that memory of him will never go away. Because he took that part away when the force made him.
I still cry in the middle of the night, when I wake up and realize he is still gone. Never knowing if he is going to come back or not. That ache, that part of me will never cease to want to be held.
i wish ryan would hold me. i wish i could feel his arms around me and be comforted. im not sure how i would feel if he was here and i was in his arms. maybe i wouldn’t be comforted. im torn between my emotions. i hate him, but God, do i love him. he makes me literally boil with anger but also smile with a heart full of love.
He held me like a mistake, wrapped in his octopus arms. No glowing embers, save what fell from his eyes, my pores filled with a secret glow… The ashes blow in our eyes now.
The world shook around the two of us, but we were together. Our arms wrapped around each other, holding each other. For when we were together, nothing could harm us.
His arms were around me; I had never felt so secure. I was absorbed into his body as if we were one. For that one moment, we were. Our hearts pounded in unison as our chests lifted for air. I could tell I had taken his just as he took mine. My knees went weak and the shivers cascaded down my spine. Goose bumps protruded from my skin. How could I ever leave? Why would I ever want to? I knew in my gut that this was something so special, I would fight to keep it.
i held her tight and i understood that she was the only person that i wanted in my life. she was my best friend, my companion, my other half, my drinking buddy, my slut, my lovely adorable sister who knew everything there was to know about me… or at least everything that mattered.
Held. Everything started because you held my hand. I didn’t even want you too. You held me and kissed me, I then told you to sit on the other side of the room. We snuck out, we held each other. You had to leave, we never held another so close. I held my plane ticket, shaking, the first time I had ever been anywhere by myself. You held the car door open for me as I got in your old truck. I held on to your neck the whole way to your house. I held the phone every night until it got hot on my cheek and I fell asleep. I held myself together waiting for your plane to arrive. I held all of our seashells we collected for hours. I held you the last night, not knowing I when I would see you again. I held your love, your lies. I held on. I’m still holding on. You let go.
literally too abundant to rest within her.
her knees bend and drop to the ground.
rocks and sand is all that’s around her;
they feel–
every inch of her anguish.
she grabs at the earth as if it’ll simply come apart.
she holds the dirt, the rocks, and the wine of her Son,
all within her hands.
as she grips it all, each piece takes some of her pain.
she wrenches the handful, as her cries wail…
the screaming fades, and sand begins to slip between her fingers,
and fall.
The discolored sand, the entire handful, rested upon the ground once more.
Holding babies is scary but also amazing. Being held means you are the weak, the baby, but to hold makes you feel strong, Probably some Freudian god complex type thing.
The first time I was held by a boy, it was really strange. It was really… forced. And- he didn’t know he was my first kiss with a boy a truly liked. Wow that sounds horrible.
He held me close, and for the first time in my memory, I let the tears flow. I didn’t know where they came from or even why I wept with such great depth, but they were profound tears. He was a stranger, handsome and somehow friendly, and I knew he didn’t deserve the burden of my sorrow. This was perhaps the epitome of my life, bitterly saddened because of consequence, and so I continued to despise myself.
I held you close enough to feel your breath on my ear lobe, so close that our hair started to mix together. It’s so close in color that it’s hard to tell the difference. And when you held me for the last time, my breath left me, and I have never quite gotten it back. I can’t tell if the hair left on my shoulder is mine or yours.
I held out my hand to save him. I yelled his name, begged for him to grab my hand and take it–be saved! But he wouldn’t. Said he was going now. it was time for him to go.
I still tried to reach him.
But it was too late.
He fell as I held out my hand as shock gripped me at the horror that one more life was never saved.
Or perhaps he was.
I tried to caress the thought of that
I once held a very beautiful woman in my arms. Her eyes, beautiful as the first rose that from the depths of winter is arisen during spring, followed through like a shot into my eyes, and my soul.
I was sitting on his lap as he held me. We were at the lacrosse fields and he wasn’t sure what he was doing, and neither was I. He was stroking my side, and it was adorable. I was 14 and he was 18. He knew he didn’t need to do anything else. I was in heaven. Then everything changed, and all I have left is hope that I’ll have a moment like that again with someone new.
Her head was held aloft by a dwindling will attempting to do the job of fatigued muscles. What day was it? Why was she awake? Never mind it all, she would just have to–wait…was that a pillow? Everything else faded to black.
i held her and it was beautiful in the way that losing things is beautiful, because she doesn’t quite hold on back, she’s like this bird skeleton or something that you can feel moving away from you as you move towards it. i didn’t actually hold her anyway, but in my memory it’s like that and you know they say that if you think about something enough then your mind thinks it’s true. I want to think it’s true.
I held you close enough to feel your breath on my ear lobe, so close that our hair started to mix together. It’s so close in color that it’s hard to tell the difference. And when you held me for the last time, my breath left me, and I have never quite gotten it back. I can’t tell if the hair left on my shoulder is mine or yours.
Within my this ancient being held my heart and pointed it in her direction. “That’s her” He said. “That is the girl you will love. On the day i knit you in your mother’s womb, so did i knit her. And before your soul took it’s first breath, a piece was taken and stitched in her pattern. And guess what? A piece of her own was embroidered into yours as well. From the day you were born on to the Earth, you’re hearts, like music, were in synch with each other. You walked the earth, your hearts beating, sending a beat to the only one with the same. And today you found her.”
she was held closer to him by a thin thread of love which kept them together no matter how long the distances between them were. their love formed the unbreakable bond.
He held me close before he said goodbye, I miss the way he held me, I miss feeling his hands on my face, I can still feel his lips gently caressing my cheek before he released his hold on me. There is nothing in this world as good as being in his embrace. He is my everything and I am everything to him, I can feel it in his arms.
i already held you.
i already smelled you.
i already kicked your ass to the curb and bug-spray repelled you.
i already knew it.
you did too.
still you held your hand twined in mine like glue.
i like being held, I miss being held. Sometimes I think I should have stayed with him, and then I remember how suffocated I felt whilst being held. I know I did the right thing. But having to live with the consequences every day is hell. Seeing how I much I hurt him. I hate feeling that guilt.
i love to be held. I don’t get a hug nearly as often as the average person should. I go days with out being held. Its important to have to human physical touch. with out a physical touch from another you’re liable to lose ya mind.
Only to be… only to do…
I held on to the handle of the door while I looked round to see what was behind it.
It was way too busy at the restaurant for the people we had staffed, and I picked a completed burger up. I held it while I turned to answer a waitress, all the while the hottest grease dripping onto my hand. It was burning me, and I held it for way too long. If I’d dropped it, I would have had to make it again, and I couldn’t afford to waste the time. My had was scorched and I don’t think it was worth it.
I held out my hand to reach his, begging him to grab it and be saved–be saved, damnit!
But I saw his face, and it was calm. He said he needed to go now, and that he was set.
he fell, and I could only look in horror as another life was never saved once again
she held her palms to the sky contemplating what move would be her next. should love define her heart and should these hands ever touch him again? Her wish was to smell his scent, hold his hand with these delicate fingers; to twist the bracelet he wore around and around again until he giggled in frustration. he would tickle her stomach and make her smile — timing and fate was never on her side. this boy she gave everything to was no longer just a boy, he was someone she cared for – quite possibly loved had she let herself. and now all that is left is his scent on her pillows and the faint vanilla she left on her own skin. the summer sky was no longer about where the path would lead but how it would end – because she knew, deep down the gut wrenching feeling that they were just at the wrong places in their lives. they fit together like two jagged pieces but the puzzle was not ready to be solved and so their love would not bloom. the flowers of summer will soon wilt as will her passion and though he may be the first boy she cared for, she knows he will not be the last. his scent still entices every nerve in her body to love, let in, and just be. but the fear of pain will forever get in the way of any type of happiness.
I held it in my mind–a belief, a dream, a song. And I worried, feared, misunderstood that I would drop it someday. I clasped tightly until I could think of nothing else, and still it slipped out of memory. And when it did, I knew it, I felt it, for the first time.
As I held your hand, I wondered if this was intimacy. Having my hands held always made me feel warm. Being held makes me feel warm. I want my hands from held to hold. Hold my hands forever. So I’ll never have to only be. . .held.
His tiny heartbeat pulsed through my hands and chest as I held on to him for dear life. The water was unforgiving, slashing at us like whips as we attempted to cross the river.
This was the third time in one week that we’d tried. By this point, I was questioning if all of it was worth it. Was it worth the grueling struggle to arrive at a place that did nothing but look down upon and humiliate you? Was it worth it to endanger the life of the little man that I currently held to my chest?
The answer is yes.
I’m doing this for him. I’m doing this for the betterment of his future. And if I had to cross a thousand rivers and evade a hoard of ravenous hunters then so be it.
I’ll do it all. Not a second thought. I’ll do it all for my little man.
I do not need your heart, tho’ I would like it. I do not need your words, tho’ I would love them. I do not need your pity or your tears or your sorrow, I would rather see them dry. And all of the feelings in the world you could not give me, even if you wanted to, even tho’ we would bathe in healing. What I need, is your arms, your chest, your body tight against mine. What I need is that secure murmur that your blood whispers when I am held.
Why did I held this red paper if didn’t want to see anymore of his writing?
Why do I still hold on to memories?
Why did I held your heart if I never loved you?
Why..?
Held at gunpoint, I started to pray. I thought it was the right thing to do. I had never been in this scar of a situation before and I definitely was not going to fight the bearded man off with my weak arms. I started praying in my mind and the words became whispers; whispers that caught my assailant off-guard. He seemed awestruck, and after some hesitation he lowered the gun slowly.
he held me in his arms we laughed I cried we danced and jumped and ate grapes and clouds we smiled and laughed we could not stop looking at each other his face was beautiful
He held me as tight as he could. As if there were nothing dividing us. We became one and that is what was the most important thing. And for that moment I was happy. Him holding me like we were never to separate. Then he was gone.
And that memory of him will never go away. Because he took that part away when the force made him.
I still cry in the middle of the night, when I wake up and realize he is still gone. Never knowing if he is going to come back or not. That ache, that part of me will never cease to want to be held.
i wish ryan would hold me. i wish i could feel his arms around me and be comforted. im not sure how i would feel if he was here and i was in his arms. maybe i wouldn’t be comforted. im torn between my emotions. i hate him, but God, do i love him. he makes me literally boil with anger but also smile with a heart full of love.
He held me like a mistake, wrapped in his octopus arms. No glowing embers, save what fell from his eyes, my pores filled with a secret glow… The ashes blow in our eyes now.
The world shook around the two of us, but we were together. Our arms wrapped around each other, holding each other. For when we were together, nothing could harm us.
His arms were around me; I had never felt so secure. I was absorbed into his body as if we were one. For that one moment, we were. Our hearts pounded in unison as our chests lifted for air. I could tell I had taken his just as he took mine. My knees went weak and the shivers cascaded down my spine. Goose bumps protruded from my skin. How could I ever leave? Why would I ever want to? I knew in my gut that this was something so special, I would fight to keep it.
i held her tight and i understood that she was the only person that i wanted in my life. she was my best friend, my companion, my other half, my drinking buddy, my slut, my lovely adorable sister who knew everything there was to know about me… or at least everything that mattered.
Held. Everything started because you held my hand. I didn’t even want you too. You held me and kissed me, I then told you to sit on the other side of the room. We snuck out, we held each other. You had to leave, we never held another so close. I held my plane ticket, shaking, the first time I had ever been anywhere by myself. You held the car door open for me as I got in your old truck. I held on to your neck the whole way to your house. I held the phone every night until it got hot on my cheek and I fell asleep. I held myself together waiting for your plane to arrive. I held all of our seashells we collected for hours. I held you the last night, not knowing I when I would see you again. I held your love, your lies. I held on. I’m still holding on. You let go.
the pain became cumbersome…
literally too abundant to rest within her.
her knees bend and drop to the ground.
rocks and sand is all that’s around her;
they feel–
every inch of her anguish.
she grabs at the earth as if it’ll simply come apart.
she holds the dirt, the rocks, and the wine of her Son,
all within her hands.
as she grips it all, each piece takes some of her pain.
she wrenches the handful, as her cries wail…
the screaming fades, and sand begins to slip between her fingers,
and fall.
The discolored sand, the entire handful, rested upon the ground once more.
the hurt is no more, for He is now everlasting.
Holding babies is scary but also amazing. Being held means you are the weak, the baby, but to hold makes you feel strong, Probably some Freudian god complex type thing.
The first time I was held by a boy, it was really strange. It was really… forced. And- he didn’t know he was my first kiss with a boy a truly liked. Wow that sounds horrible.
He held me close, and for the first time in my memory, I let the tears flow. I didn’t know where they came from or even why I wept with such great depth, but they were profound tears. He was a stranger, handsome and somehow friendly, and I knew he didn’t deserve the burden of my sorrow. This was perhaps the epitome of my life, bitterly saddened because of consequence, and so I continued to despise myself.
I held you close enough to feel your breath on my ear lobe, so close that our hair started to mix together. It’s so close in color that it’s hard to tell the difference. And when you held me for the last time, my breath left me, and I have never quite gotten it back. I can’t tell if the hair left on my shoulder is mine or yours.
i was held captive within my soul for so long, but i finally learned to break through my hardships and once and for all forgive & love myself.
I held out my hand to save him. I yelled his name, begged for him to grab my hand and take it–be saved! But he wouldn’t. Said he was going now. it was time for him to go.
I still tried to reach him.
But it was too late.
He fell as I held out my hand as shock gripped me at the horror that one more life was never saved.
Or perhaps he was.
I tried to caress the thought of that
I once held a very beautiful woman in my arms. Her eyes, beautiful as the first rose that from the depths of winter is arisen during spring, followed through like a shot into my eyes, and my soul.
helr i muli krast the bnag off my flue, the mind, lifhting weatger
I was sitting on his lap as he held me. We were at the lacrosse fields and he wasn’t sure what he was doing, and neither was I. He was stroking my side, and it was adorable. I was 14 and he was 18. He knew he didn’t need to do anything else. I was in heaven. Then everything changed, and all I have left is hope that I’ll have a moment like that again with someone new.
Her head was held aloft by a dwindling will attempting to do the job of fatigued muscles. What day was it? Why was she awake? Never mind it all, she would just have to–wait…was that a pillow? Everything else faded to black.
i held her and it was beautiful in the way that losing things is beautiful, because she doesn’t quite hold on back, she’s like this bird skeleton or something that you can feel moving away from you as you move towards it. i didn’t actually hold her anyway, but in my memory it’s like that and you know they say that if you think about something enough then your mind thinks it’s true. I want to think it’s true.
I held you close enough to feel your breath on my ear lobe, so close that our hair started to mix together. It’s so close in color that it’s hard to tell the difference. And when you held me for the last time, my breath left me, and I have never quite gotten it back. I can’t tell if the hair left on my shoulder is mine or yours.
Within my this ancient being held my heart and pointed it in her direction. “That’s her” He said. “That is the girl you will love. On the day i knit you in your mother’s womb, so did i knit her. And before your soul took it’s first breath, a piece was taken and stitched in her pattern. And guess what? A piece of her own was embroidered into yours as well. From the day you were born on to the Earth, you’re hearts, like music, were in synch with each other. You walked the earth, your hearts beating, sending a beat to the only one with the same. And today you found her.”
she was held closer to him by a thin thread of love which kept them together no matter how long the distances between them were. their love formed the unbreakable bond.
Just stop. Don’t focus on her. Take me. Hold me.
I don’t remember what it is to be held.
I don’t remember the warmth of your arms.
What happened to us? The us we were always meant to be.
What happened to the simplicity of our love? The don’t think, just do.
I loved you.
And I loved when you held me.
He held me close before he said goodbye, I miss the way he held me, I miss feeling his hands on my face, I can still feel his lips gently caressing my cheek before he released his hold on me. There is nothing in this world as good as being in his embrace. He is my everything and I am everything to him, I can feel it in his arms.
he held me closely, into the deep warmth of his arms. and i just fell and fell and fell. Oh and how i fell. When will ii be held that way again…
i already held you.
i already smelled you.
i already kicked your ass to the curb and bug-spray repelled you.
i already knew it.
you did too.
still you held your hand twined in mine like glue.
i like being held, I miss being held. Sometimes I think I should have stayed with him, and then I remember how suffocated I felt whilst being held. I know I did the right thing. But having to live with the consequences every day is hell. Seeing how I much I hurt him. I hate feeling that guilt.