Many days had passed since the sun set on my stage,
humbly, I sat, smoking at the stage door, dressed in my best Judy Garland,
introspective at last,
running for years, but there I was, at the same place I started.
It was then that I kissed fate on the cheek and allowed her to flower.
Love is not something that you can run from.
Of course, you’ll try, because you’re scared and a little bit stupid,
veering on the delusional as you run down dark hallways in last night’s make up,
eternally doomed to look over your shoulder for the captor that caught you as a child.
All of it began back then.
Something struck me when I was fourteen and fortunate enough to be alive,
honestly, I was born to be the lover of a girl like you,
long predicted, long suffering, running from myself until I’m too old to be adorable, but, yet,
I arrive back at the same place I started, and there you are.