What can I tell you when you touch me
and it makes me want to scream and kick
and push you away.  It isn't you. The
nightmares that trouble my sleep and
haunt every second of every waking hour
make the solace of your arms unbearable.
They make the quiet solitude of death
seem a sweet release. I want to dream
of laughter, and the day your arms are
once more a safe haven.