You were born with wandering feet and a heart already whole

You were never foolish for kissing him,
for looking deep into his eyes,
for losing your footing like a teenager,
stumbling and drunk on love.
You were never wrong for wanting a sacred place,
some quiet corner of the universe
you could claim as your own.
You were young.
And you were searching, even then.
But you were trying to make homes
out of temporary people.
Trying to find yourself in the body of a stranger
who could never fill you, never complete you,
never satisfy the longing in your chest
to be both protected and set free,
both loved and let go.
You were born with wandering feet and a heart
already whole.
You weren’t meant to be held, to be caged,
to be saved
You were meant to run.
Born to grab the earth with your fingertips,
taste the wild and uncharted on your tongue.