vagrant dreamer

once upon a time, everything was solved with a hug.

every transgression, large or small, melted within human arms, weak to the force of forgiveness and meeting anew. chests cleaved to chests. every cheek gilded to ear and every eyelid flushed to temple. people came together and were joined into something greater than they had ever been apart.

magnetized, the romantics would wish. an eclipsing instant of a permanent, faraway forever.

further, an embrace was an expression of excitement, of contentment, of reinforcement.

it was joyful action taken when words weren't needed, not a reliance for when words had failed and resignation was all we had left.

what a beautiful, automatic pattern. and we embraced each other.

but now we are less than we ever have been, separate as together. we won't be joined again. that's not the task laid before us, now. we are older now, after all.

we can't talk, can't even say...

and i couldn't feel safe even if i wanted to. even if i didn't try

i don't know what the difference is. i don't know what's come about to strike my fear with such extraordinary desolation.

(it's the not knowing that's courting the fear, i'm sure)

but now, unheld (set loose, set free), i am ever more greatly broken by those fickle moments of generosity. i am crumbling, unreinforced

i scrabble like a winter rodent to store away goodwill, weakening all its dear potency as i slather its scarcity upon my wounds. i'll wander anywhere for a cheap chance at belonging, for a flustered glance toward the all-consuming horror of tangible appreciation.

love me. love me. say that you love me.

(really. respect me. give it to me straight.)

but not like that. not with your eyes front.