Run

[Vanity]

Run

This can't be about the mice, the prince, the slipper
Because that's not where I am.
I'm afraid I bought the time share.
I'm outside of it far more than in it-
and my daydreaming mind just wants
done with it.
I was so excited when I got the dress,
When I ran my finger over the vellum invitation.
I admit I am old enough to get excited over stationary.
I did what girls are supposed to do.
And now I feel like
I'm patting the walls down a pitch black hall-
a dim light grows brighter as I near it.
My cat sleeps in all the boxes I brought home.
He keeps my council, unblinking.
He blots my tears.
I have figured myself about fifteen years too late.
I no longer give a fuck about weeding
or tater tot casseroles,
or the cult of Pinterest.
I'm putting down landscape fabric and a ton of rock--
There. Done. I'm leaving my phone.
I don't care who poked me.
I toss an apple and a shiny water canteen in the car-
I put on my running shoes and run, and run--I feel my heart hammering
  -the sweat is like a baptism- the rush I feel-
I stop in the woods, my hands on my knees, panting.
I'm alone now,
but not lonely like before.

[Achebe]

Run

This can't be about the mice, the prince, the slipper
Because that's not where I am.        ...a rather blah line. I suppose you mean 'I'm not at that stage in life where I get excited by princes and promises to the ball..or fairy stories. But the 'this' followed by the 'that' is quite unpoetic. 'Where I am' in this context is mildly cliched.

I'm afraid I bought the time share.
I'm outside of it far more than in it- ......isn't that normal for time shares? Unless there's a double meaning here

and my daydreaming mind just wants. ...... I find that 'and' is an easily abused conjunction 
done with it.
I was so excited when I got the dress,
When I ran my finger over the vellum invitation.
I admit I am old enough to get excited over stationary.
I did what girls are supposed to do.
And now I feel like
I'm patting the walls down a pitch black hall-
a dim light grows brighter as I near it.
My cat sleeps in all the boxes I brought home.
He keeps my council, unblinking.
He blots my tears.
I have figured myself about fifteen years too late.
I no longer give a fuck about weeding
or tater tot casseroles,
or the cult of Pinterest.
I'm putting down landscape fabric and a ton of rock--
There. Done. I'm leaving my phone.
I don't care who poked me.
I toss an apple and a shiny water canteen in the car-
I put on my running shoes and run, and run--I feel my heart hammering
  -the sweat is like a baptism- the rush I feel-
I stop in the woods, my hands on my knees, panting.
I'm alone now,
but not lonely like before.

Hi Vanity - a lovely one from you again. I am a sucker for narratives, and you do it quite well.
I need to go back to your other pome - just not getting the time at the moment.
In this one:
1) too many I's. It doesn't look deliberate, so you might want to fix that through conjunctions or sentence restructuring.
2) A couple of thoughts inline above. Since this is 'mild'' I don't think line by line feedback is what you're after.
3) the bit about running is almost an afterthought - doesn't fit in well with the long preamble

This looks like a good poem to workshop. Could be a jewel with a few edits

---

Pardon the typos. Handheld.

[Acephale]

Run

This can't be about the mice, the prince, the slipper
Because that's not where I am.  (Cinderella reference, understood)
I'm afraid I bought the time share.
I'm outside of it far more than in it-
and my daydreaming mind just wants  
done with it.  (I would try not to use 'it' so much. I understand you're doing it for rhythm, but it sounds cleaner if you remove and reword.)
I was so excited when I got the dress, (Take away 'so' and start the next line with 'ran.' You have a lot of 'I' in this piece and we know it is you speaking so there is no need to be repetitive.)
When I ran my finger over the vellum invitation.
I admit I am old enough to get excited over stationary.
I did what girls are supposed to do.
And now I feel like
I'm patting the walls down a pitch black hall-
a dim light grows brighter as I near it.

My cat sleeps in all the boxes I brought home. (I like these three lines)
He keeps my council, unblinking.
He blots my tears.

I have figured myself about fifteen years too late. (myself out)
I no longer give a fuck about weeding
or tater tot casseroles,
or the cult of Pinterest.
I'm putting down landscape fabric and a ton of rock--
There. Done. I'm leaving my phone.
I don't care who poked me. 
I toss an apple and a shiny water canteen in the car-
I put on my running shoes and run, and run--I feel my heart hammering
  -the sweat is like a baptism- the rush I feel-
I stop in the woods, my hands on my knees, panting.
I'm alone now,
but not lonely like before.

I really enjoyed the last bit. There is an element of humor to it. The running part, was this an actual day in your life? It seems like it.

[Lizzie]

Run

This can't be about the mice, the prince, the slipper
Because that's not where I am. -- is "because" capitalized for emphasis?
I'm afraid I bought the time share.
I'm outside of it far more than in it-
and my daydreaming mind just wants  -- "daydreaming" feels out of place for me -- I don't see how it explains any of the ideas around it. 
done with it. -- I agree that there are too many repetitions of "it"
I was so excited when I got the dress,
When I ran my finger over the vellum invitation. -- is there a reason you capitalize "when"? I love the specificity and immediacy of the image.
I admit I am old enough to get excited over stationary. Love this
I did what girls are supposed to do.
And now I feel like
I'm patting the walls down a pitch black hall-
a dim light grows brighter as I near it.
My cat sleeps in all the boxes I brought home. -- An easily visualized line. I like how you bring the reader into your world.
He keeps my council, unblinking.
He blots my tears.
I have figured myself about fifteen years too late. -- I like that you didn't go for the expected "figured myself out." You successfully avoided cliche, IMO.
I no longer give a fuck about weeding
or tater tot casseroles,
or the cult of Pinterest.
I'm putting down landscape fabric and a ton of rock--
There. Done. I'm leaving my phone.
I don't care who poked me. -- I have a love/hate relationship with the "poked me" bit. Anyone on Facebook will know what you're talking about and it makes the poem relevant in the now, but I'm not sure that anyone will know what you're talking about 10 years from now, because social media changes so fast. This may or may not be of great concern to you, depending on how you envision using your work in the future.
I toss an apple and a shiny water canteen in the car-
I put on my running shoes and run, and run--I feel my heart hammering
  -the sweat is like a baptism- the rush I feel-
I stop in the woods, my hands on my knees, panting.
I'm alone now,
but not lonely like before.

I love the accessibility of your work -- it ropes me in and keeps me reading. Thanks for sharing!