They lifted off
like they always knew how to fly
while I was still learning
how to stand without shaking.
We shared the same halls
the same cracked jokes
the same late night plans
but their doors opened
and mine stayed stiff in the frame.

They rush ahead now
bright streaks of color
while I flicker behind them
like a bulb that hums but never fills the room.
I watch their wins from a distance
trying not to measure myself
against people who no longer see me
when they look back.

I stay on the shoreline
feet in cold sand
listening to their laughter fade
as the tide pulls their boats forward.
They did not choose to leave me.
They just kept moving
and I kept hoping they would turn around.

So I breathe
and let the water reach me.
If they return
they return.
If they do not
I will still learn
how to step into the tide
on my own.