Roads.

I took the long way home.

We met at Infatuation Highway and
I should have left you there when you held my heart merely on the surface of your hand and not in your shirt pocket, where it deserved to be, right next to your beating heart.

I took the long way home.

I waited in the rain on Mutuality Avenue, shivering and cold, while you took your sweet,
sweet time to get to me, while you traversed alleys and underneath tunnels that belonged to owners that looked nothing like me.

I took the long way home.

Love Lane seemed warm and yet not–for your eyes seemed to drift over to Possibility Drive,
where the unknown of what could have been called out to you like a mirage, like those lonely hotels on the highway that appear just when you need them.

I took the long way home.

I struck at your cold, cold heart and I broke it open and I found, not gold, but roads.

Yet I traversed them, haunted by the cacophony of naysayers as I trudged up endless hills and deep valleys.

And then, here, now, finally,
you greet me at the intersection of Home and Understanding, just when I’ve decided that I’m done with walking.