When my heartstrings break the backbone
And the background of my brain can't breathe---I fly.
I run away to places with
Mountains
Oceans
And boys who love me.
And when I tire of running, I stare at the stars
And while scanning those spectrum skies…
Everything is so far, and I am so young and so strong.
...Who am I kidding?
I am so...scared. And so alone.
And after running away for what seems like the millionth time,
Armed with my backpack and ceaseless hope
I honestly believe this place will be different.
THIS place? This PLACE?!
This place has mountains.
Or forests, or beaches, or glaciers, or oceans or--

No…who cares about the ocean?

What I miss are fireflies
Lighting up a field, or a backyard-turned-wonderland
Where sticky strawberry-flavored fingers catch them
And make a wish
Because, in Omaha?
You wish on more than stars.

I miss the warm wind winging it's way around me whispering "Good luck, beautiful"
I miss first kisses lying hand-in-hand in the grass.
And last kisses between feverish April rainbursts.

And I realize

I want to go back forever

I want to walk back to where "eternal" is painted across the sky
Brushstroke by brushstroke
I want to walk...home.
I don't need a new place, I need new hope.

The oak tree in my front yard is not responsible for my heartache,
The girl who used to climb it is.
And although your mountains are beautiful,
I just can't reach the top.
I can only climb high enough to overlook my memories.
Of sitting on an overpass, playing guitar with a boy,
And lemonade stands, rising against the demands of the sun.
I miss the sounds of
Love.
I'll only pack this bag once more.

I'm going home.