last night i dreamt that i had my arms wrapped around your shoulders and i pulled you into me. it was warm, i remember that. we were in the park that doesn't exist anymore because there is a community center upon its bones; we were there before it was demolished. there was a big screen in the park, under the trees, and the film was grainy. it was black and white and grey and slow, calming, if not entirely soothing to my busy mind. then i woke up. my body is sore and scratched and bruised; a simple touch to my forehead sets off a pain of a thousand tiny knives down my nerves and to my toes. my head is weary.

we talked about emotions and customs that seem to not exist anymore. why are we so frightened of being safe with someone else? of that safety provided by someone else? it's a lament that is far too old and familiar for my tastes. it is modern to be independent; modern to scorn the chivalrous aspects of not so long ago. i am modern and scorn my fair share and yet, there is a palpitation in my chest that longs for something else, someone else, and i do not know what or why. it is gloomy again today and the green of the trees and grass is not as bright as it was yesterday. i can only hope they are but a little greener before the sun goes down.