The Night Run

Sneakers on gravel, the weight of the day unravels as the familiar background circles and curtails.  I could run from my monsters for miles.  But instead I run with them, and they whisper in my ears.  And I pay careful attention, because every fault they mention is the next step.  The next step.  Closer to better but better is just a point off in the distance, the path of most resistance like running through a thousand rubber bands.  I’m tired of being the reason you cry yourself to sleep at night.  I’m tired of exhausting all my passion on the explosion, rather than the slow- mellow – burn of two lovers sitting fireside.  I’m tired of being an overturned table and a forked tongue, when all I wanted… all I wanted was to love and be loved.  I hope that my self-loathing means I’m growing into some mettle I can stand.  But for now– I run.