I hate to run.
When I think of it I think of you.
And to be honest that makes me sick.
You run over my heart daily.
Just to get hit yourself.
I was there for you everyday and you still ran.
Ran from me. From our dogs. And everything we had.
And when I confront you, you just laugh and say I dont care.
Then you head out for a run. Run. Run. Run.
Running through my torn up heart.
Your shoes have left scars that harrings themself can not heel.
So when say I hate running. I mean it.
And once you head into the rain anyways.
Leaving me to write this poem.
Goodbye my myjestic runner. Run to the wind where you once came from.
-Love Geoff you're with the horses now.