I left without a plan
and gained it somewhere between borders.
Collected cities
like breaths —-
some deep,
some forgotten.
I was lonely
in crowded places,
and full
in quiet ones.
I chased meaning
until it stopped running,
and waited.
Some days were heavy.
Some days were light.
Most days were just days.
And somewhere in between
the moving,
the searching,
the letting go —
I didn’t find
something new.
I met someone
I had left behind.
