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Flight Path

Flight Path

A lone figure by the end of the world

I watch the sunlight dip below glowing horizons

waves splashing onto sand of silvery white

wind rushing like it has somewhere to go

I don't.

The bold waves breach my solitary confinement

brought on by my own foolishness, of course

another argument to store in the back of my mind

bring out later on to use for my own nefarious purposes.

The surf slithers up to my ankles, a chilly reminder that I should return soon

but not just yet.

I will let them stew in their own sorrow and loneliness for a little while longer

until, of course

they understand I have been wronged.

They always do.

And I will wait until the stammering apology comes

though undoubtedly

it was my fault all along.

But it is no matter

just as promises are made to be broken

and love is made to be lost

and I was made to be forgotten

apologies are meant to be given to those

who deserve it least.

Like me.

Each wave melts into the sea again, the part of the whole we could never comprehend -

and yet, we do:

Each wave takes with them something of mine as they slide away

and I watch

still the solitary figure

as my hopes and dreams are borne away

on the wings of a soaring seagull

a flight path

I have yet to take.

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