My heart knows, my arms don’t

My arms go stiff when I’m close to home.
Like they forgot what they’ve always known.
I stand there frozen, heart on fire,
Wanting to move, afraid to try it.

Thinking “I love you”, but won’t come out,
Caught between fear and quiet doubt.
At home those words feel far too loud.
Too heavy to say, too real, too proud.

Hugs feel awkward, timed too late,
Measured seconds, held in place.
I count the beats, I pull away,
Afraid I’ll break if I choose to stay.

It’s not that love has ever been thin,
It’s rooted deep under the skin.
But family love knows every scar,
Every distance, every “we are”.

So I learned to love without my hands.
Through showing up, through silent plans.
Through staying near, through doing more,
Through standing guard outside the door.

But with my friends, my body knows
It leans in close, it overflows.
My arms remember how to hold.
How to be warm, how to be bold.

“I love you” falls without a fight,
Hugs last longer, feel more right.
No fear of weight, no fear of need,
No old wounds begging me to bleed.

At home, affection feels like a risk.
Like touching truth I might not fix.
Like if I hug too tight, too long,
I’ll admit where I belong.

So I hover near, I keep my space.
Hope love shows in quieter ways.
Hope they feel it in all I do,
In everything I don’t say too.

But wanting still can bruise the chest,
A longing love cannot suppress.
Because arms are meant to reach and stay,
Not freeze and fold and turn away.

Maybe one day I’ll stay in place,
Let the hug last, feel the space.
Let my arms unlearn the fear.
Let love show up and linger here.

Until then, know this much is true:
I’ve loved you hard my whole life through.
Even when my arms won’t let me show,
My heart has always held you close.