Run.

Lace up.

Step out.

Run.

Into the night and the pouring rain that wash over you like a tidal wave of painkillers for the hurt stories in your head.

Broken too much not enough it’s over you lose.

Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step.

Run.

Away from the running away that led you here, the 2400 mile sprint you made far from everything that loved you with an absolute certainty, only to stay in this foreign place where there is never any certainty of love.

Breathe then step then breathe then step.

Run.

Crying always feels like dying here so let your eyes fill with rain water instead, until even you cannot see what you do not ever let them see anymore.

Run.

Breathe. Miss a step.

Think that the night the rain the breath and even your own heart has betrayed you, right before you fall.

Grab the wet earth in angry fistfuls and roll onto your back.

Let cessation of forward motion make you still enough to feel everything you run from.

If crying is dying then just let yourself die for once, right there in the mud and the leaves that fell dead, just days before you did.

Realize that in this place you ran to where love is uncertain and vague, the leaves falling and dying is also called fall, and you’ve learned what happens next the leaves become a part of the earth and all of the life which happens after that.

Realize, as you lay in the earth crying and dying that you, woman, you bring life too.

You can break. Be too much or not enough. Survive beginnings and all the endings. You can lose.

And still. You will always bring life to every thing.

You cannot outrun this true story.

You can only let the rain rinse you clean and run toward it.

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