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Left in the Dust: A Traveler's Tale into the Unknown

Heather has a Bachelor's Degree in English from Moravian College and has been freelance writing for more than 12 years.

Traipsed through Sherwood Forest wild and carefree

Partied with Robin of Locksley and his merry gang of thieves

Rebelled against the Sheriff of Nottingham yet again

Received make-up tips and a French braid from Lady Marion

Was advised on how to secure a suitor without getting caught

Laid out the perfect trap at the end of the mightiest oak tree

Unfortunately, the one that got caught was the wrong one

Hunter became the definitive prey in this game

Ensnared by the greatest sniper in all of the territories

A wild insurgent eager to go against the grain of traditional life

Didn't want to be tied down by land holdings or a permanent love

Placed in a firm grip in your personally specific spider's web

Sadly, you're also locked into place by the tender trappings of love

Or something remarkably close to it

Your own version of Grizzly Adams had one foot in place

While other pointed in the direction of the front door

Laid loose fitting stakes into the wettest soil possible

Claimed that he was planning a long poker game for keeps

Months went by and some form of domesticity took hold

Caused a sense of contentment for both parties involved

In reality, it was an incredible simulation of the real thing

Like those knock-off colognes they sell in Walmart

A close second that always failed to live up to the hype

Never matched what it was like to have the real thing so close

As it slipped through those slippery fingers

Anxiety ridden as the wanderlust nearly suffocated your wild man

Suffered from Restless Leg Syndrome on a regular basis

Never able to sit still for the length of a Roseanne episode

Antsy and jittery when it comes to plans more than two days in advance

Wondered when the other shoe was going to drop

And his side of the closet would be completely barren

Only a distant memory of Polo shirts and Levis hanging there

Signs of a former life in the form of a fleet of empty white hangers

Tired of dreading the inevitable conclusion of the nomad reverting to form

Decided to flip the script for a change as an element of surprise

Removed all trace of my former desires of settling down

Creating roots in an imaginary suburban forest

Packed my bags and stripped my side of the closet clean

Picked it apart so that nothing remained

Gave Mr. Adventurer a taste of what it was like to be left behind

Took on the role of the wanderer and letting the open road be the guide

Having a relationship with no one except the ground beneath my feet

No better way to be at the moment

In control of what was ahead; not behind.

Pack your bags and leave before it's too late.

Pack your bags and leave before it's too late.

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