I have the itchiest feet

For brand new streets

New faces

Strange places.
New things I long to try

But how, when I’m so tied

To a life that doesn’t feel like mine

In a place on borrowed time.

I should’ve left

When I knew it was best

Packed up like the rest

So scared of life’s tests

While others were right
I am left, bereft.

And yet.

A seed. A well protected yearning

That grows stronger

With each year

Each number.

Another chance to make a change.

Another chance to age

With pride in choices that are mine.

I’ll just give it more time

Marinate in this hopeful skin crawling yearning

Until there’s nothing left to do but move

Fumigate my entire being

And emerge anew.

Risen. Cleansed. Raw and ready.

To meet myself face to face
And she’ll say


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