Your arms are floppy.
They can hold me strong.
Their hold doesn't mean love.
No it means something far from it.
It's fear.
You're afraid.
You're afraid I'll leave.
You're afraid that one day I won't return.
So they don't really hold me.
Every time you put your floppy, lanky arms around me, they never hold me.
It's the fear they hold.
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