Lonely Road

Alone.

I lost something very important to me today.

On the road, my feet in the dirt, the asphalt burning through my pants, I sit facing the forest. In there, through those trees, it’s dark and isolating and sings to me. The trees, tall and brown under the February clouds, wall me in, and the world is small on this strip of highway.

This strip of highway and me, lost somewhere in my mind.

My stomach, it’s empty, and it yearns for something. There’s a hole burned into the bottom of my stomach, and that hole tugs at my throat, my tongue, my breath.

And, really, I’ve lost a part of myself.

I’m all alone on the road, my blue backpack stolen, and my hands suffocating in my pockets. It’s hot outside and it’s February and nothing makes sense.

My one companion, gone. Me with nothing left.

Alone.

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When was the last time you were on the road?

 

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