by The Dirty Latte
Her broken heart didn’t come from another person.
It was the breakup she yearned for,
The breakup she would never get over,
And the breakup after a year of change.
It came from the ocean she no longer stepped foot into,
The wooded trails that would hold no more sunset runs,
The dusty roads that had been sing-a-long backdrops.
She cried for the loss of who she had found in those places,
Someone who begged for adventure,
Who craved the thrill of finding herself,
The woman who could see the future laid out in front of her.
There was running and leaving and going home again,
Laden with tearful goodbyes to each person she had been.