To be held

I am too much and yet still far too empty. I hate that society has made hugs a greeting: too informal and much too insincere. I need a real hug, one that is open and secure. I want to hide under someone's wings. I want a hug, the kind where the tears can fall quietly onto their shoulder like the first snowflakes daintily slipping to the ground. I want to be held: I'm so cold, and yet not the type a jacket can fix. I long for closeness. I want someone to look into my eyes, but to really look. I want them to see all that I am and all that I am not yet and all that I will never be. I want to be seen more than anything, the real me, even what I push away from the surface. And I want them to see all of me-- my hurt, my fears, my insecurity-- and I want a hug.