I dream about you again. I am a teenager and you gently stroke my hair back before leaving. You don’t care that it’s oily and unkept. You continue to love me even at my worst.
I am usually indifferent to touch. It means nothing to me. But when you touch me I feel emotion. I feel safety. I feel love. This is what touch is meant to feel like.
Please, don’t leave me in this world which assaults me, in one form or another, every day. Don’t tease me with love, don’t dangle in front of me something I can never have. I wish I died in my sleep last night with you by my side. I wish I never woke up. Dreaming is my escape from my monochrome life. I only wish I could bottle my dreams, take them back with me when I wake up, and re-experience them like watching a favourite DVD again and again.