Forehead Kisses like Sunscreen

i long to run
to a faraway land
where no one knows my name
where i don't have to wear my daily maks of pleasant complacency
or filter my words
where i can whisper or shout my rage and grief as i please
without being abandoned or accused
where wounds are seen and heard and soothed
and tender forehead kisses are spread liberally,
like sunscreen