She used to dance barefoot in the kitchen Radio loud enough to wake the neighbours Used to leave flowers in her own hair Just because it made her smile Back when mirrors felt friendly And silence wasn’t something to fear Now she’s on the long way home Learning what her own voice sounds like again Watching strange towns pass the window Trying to remember who she was before him He loved how brightly she laughed at first Loved how easily she gave herself away Called her his peace His shelter His reason to keep going Until her whole life revolved around keeping him steady Now she’s on the long way home Sleeping with one eye open out of habit Still apologizing to empty rooms sometimes Still flinching when doors close too loudly At twenty-three she wanted adventure Train stations Cheap wine Late nights by the sea Now freedom feels unfamiliar Like wearing old clothes that almost fit But not quite the same way anymore She’s on the long way home tonight Passing through the wreckage quietly Trying not to hate herself For how long she stayed believing things would change Sometimes she misses who she became with him Even now Isn’t that the cruel part? How somebody can hurt you slowly And still leave fingerprints On the parts of you that once felt safe She’s on the long way home Hands tight against the cold steering wheel Watching dawn arrive without permission Wondering if healing always feels this lonely But somewhere beneath the fear The girl with flowers in her hair still exists Quieter now Older now But still alive enough To keep driving toward herself May the road rise gently beneath her May no shadow convince her to turn back May she find kindness waiting where she lands And may the woman she used to be Recognize her when she arrives home
