It rested in my pockets,
Awaiting its departure
Inked with my selfish regrets,
That I had to endure
It was once a written letter,
That I wanted to burn
Just so I could feel better,
After everything I learned
Yet it hid in between pages,
And for a while it can't be found
Finally after ages,
It showed itself and came around
Now I stand on the edge of a cliff,
The paper airplane in my hand
Ready to leave and take off,
So I never have to see it again
It takes on its course,
Not turning around
Above the ocean, off the coast,
Never to be found.
YOU ARE READING
Residuum
RomanceEventually, the future becomes the present, the present becomes the past, and the past becomes memories. These memories become hazy and dissipate over time. But back when these memories were the present, the emotions I felt formed words, and these...
