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I hate hugs,
because they mean letting someone get close.
And when they’re that close,
they learn your secrets,
your inner thoughts.
When their arms wrap around you,
what are their true intentions?
Because their hands are behind your back,
and there’s so much they can do
behind your back
when you think they care,
when you feel safe.
Because in that closeness,
you can’t see the knife they hold.
But when it plunges in,
you feel the pain,
and look them in the eyes and ask why,
but you don’t get a response.
‘Cause the deed is done,
and they’ve already moved on.
That’s why I hate hugs.
