I still love you.
I love you as much as my gypsy heart will allow. Terrified of being pinned down, terrified of losing adventure. I can’t stand still. I can never stand still. It brings me as much grief as it does joy. I run from anything that feels like chains, anything that might be permanent, but do not think there is not love there.
I wish we were on a beach together, climbing mountains together, or simply having a whirlwind discussion about something meaningful and irrelevant.
You are always with me. Day in, day out. I thought I had escaped only to find you lodged inside of me, a part of me- like a glass sliver in my eye.
I can never shed enough tears to wash it out.
This is why I run, this is why I honor my solitude. I have been called a force of nature. Like a force of nature, I leave destruction in my wake.
I cannot heal.
I can, but mother.
A parent’s torture, to watch the pain unable to stop it.
I want to fly, but not away. I want to soar. I’m looking not leaving, but always lingering where I’ve left.
There are so many things I cannot say.