Unloveable me

I am scared and alone. 

Tears stain my face, I wipe my nose on my sleeve.

My glassy eyes dart, desperately searching the room, in vain, for familiarity and soft eyes.

A warm buzz surrounds me, numbing my skin from the cold sterile, surface beneath me.

I feel light, yet weighted in restraint, 

like a helium balloon tied in servitude to an adoring child's wrist.

It grows dark. 

Terror dwells in my spine, and my body shakes to release its grasp, 

though I welcome even terror's touch.

I yearn to be held.

As if in response to my plea, I see arms reaching for me.
At first I am frightened, but cognizant that my fear is a product of my piggyback companion,
 I wonder if these arms may be able to help me.
To hold me.

I open my arms wide bracing for embrace...

The reaching arms meet resistance, colliding with a physical barrier, an impenetrable boundary.

The reaching arms do not retreat,
they remain caressing that which separates us, bated in hopes of uniting.

I know this will never be.

I am like a ship in a bottle. Stuck for eternity in the house of mirrors, in truth.

To get me out I must be broken, and once broken I am no longer that adored ship,
but rather a pile sticks heaped in
frustration.

With this realization I pull my knees to my chest, hold myself and drift off to sleep.