I’m a runner.
Ever yearning for that
which I am ever fleeing away from.
My instinct is either fight or flight,
to run or not to,
with the latter rarely,
if ever,
winning the fierce battle
of my innermost desires.
I run
as if intimacy
is the catalyst to some
imagined tragedy
where all joy is mine
but you, you shine incandescent
and I can never quite reach you.
Better to run than to fall,
with no one to catch you.
I am a runner.
Trapped in a looped bit of time,
consistently repeating
the same mistakes.
Fearful of my truths
nesting themselves as if
home and content not to leave.
And so I run.
Believing the only truth
I have ever known.
That love is only for happy people,
it is only for the societally acceptable,
Because who could ever
love
a freak
like
me

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017