Split Path

All I feel is the sand beneath my skin

For this poem I'm not sure where to begin

It gives me joy to see you happy at last

Even if I become just a piece of your past

I'm not clinging on, that's the best I can do

I'll probably fade off in the suns dark red hue

The poems we write are the true way we speak

With our markers and pens burning out in a week

So let's rest up for our next journey, this time on our own

Whether we have someone with us, or we travel alone

-M