Cradle me and tell me I’m alive and good. Smooth my forehead, I remember you did that once late at night. I thought you would kiss me then. I just need someone to hold my hand and feel the substance of my being. There are tendons and muscles and tiny bones inside. But, oh, could I have loved. Feel your face alongside the inside of my hand. I will stay with you. The ifs pile up, but there is no true way to know.