They say that flying high in the sky during the thicket of the night will help any poor stallion set his love afire.
They say that taking long walks helps alleviate stress.
Well, rest me under the tress of death, for my funeral is of war: a large, burning, pyre that burns forever and ever.
I'm not usually this poetic, my actions always sound pitiful to the passerby.
Yet, in my mind, I know more than ten thousand words. I like to keep it secret, though. My own little hideaway, a way to be free and soar without using my wings.
Now, I am flying, relishing in both mediums: language, a way I can express myself to myself, and flying, where I can show my passion to everyone...
...even though it gets repetitive sometimes, flying for the sake of entertaining others. I used to like it, hence why I'm part of the Wonderbolts, but recently, my love and I are a bit weary of the next accident, the next career-ending collision that could end our love of flight. She recently had a nightmare, one that she always has, where she catches my body, burned to a crisp. She was crying for so long; I stayed, yet after a few moments, I left. I made sure she was asleep, cuddling her favorite little plushie: a little bear I made her. She loved it, so she kept it near, in case someday, I would not be near, then she'd have the little piece of me, a little blue bear, with a large primary feather on his head.
It seems wrong though, to have left her. I am still in love with her, but my mind can't keep itself in place. She is so beautiful, more than that Apple Pie maker, who I still adore for her pies, but nothing more. This mare...
...she's my motivation to stay in the Wonderbolts.
For some reason, she's all I want.
"Gah, why do I love her?" I ask to the night.
It replies back, a soft glimmer of light.
"Why do you twist me!"
It glows bright, ready for a fight.
"She loves me! Yet she hates me?" I feel wrong.
It gets covered by a passing cloud, barely lit for me anymore.
"Now you're gone..." Where did she go?
Captured, it replies, hiding behind glass.
Floating, my heart is pounding, again, high in the sky. The ground is blurry, my thoughts are in a hurry, and I can't help but want to scurry, into the night--she's here, somewhere.
"Soarin!" she calls.
"Fl--"
She grabs me. "Soarin!"
"What's wrong?" I ask.
She hits my shoulder. "You left me, alone!" Tears streamline down her cheeks. "Why do you do this to me!"
"Do what to you?" I ask.
"Why do you twist me?"
"Why do you twist me..."
"Do you love me, or do you hate me?"
"She loves me! Yet she hates me?"
"Because I love you, Soarin! Don't leave me!"
"Now, you're gone..."
She cries into my chest. For some reason, I can't move. She's there, and I want to hug her, tell her I love her, tell her that I'm not leaving. Something inside me though is missing, and she's missing me, at home.
I need to go back, in the night sky.
So I do, her fleeting, agonizing cries gone.
What was her name again?
I can't remember, but I know I'll be home with her soon, and we'll soar, together, in the night sky.
I watch outside my door, waiting for an end. My love, Soarin', he's gone again. I can't tell him that I wake up when he leaves, he would be devastated. He'd ask why I'd lie. I wouldn't know why. He would sigh, turn over, and tell me to die--or maybe to sleep tight. I don't know, I can't hear him sometimes and in return...
...he forgets me.
I catch him stuttering on his bed, forgetting how to say my name. He keeps a picture of me on his side of the bed, wondering who I was. Yet, it serves as a reminder, it also serves as a pedestal of forgetfulness.
I love him, even for his forgetfulness.
I...
I wish I didn't flee from his mind.
He only forgets me. My name is something I have to train him to keep. He's like a child, but he loves to fly and well, I love how he flies. The poor ol' dope doesn't even know it. He told me one night how he's fearful of his own career. I told him I was fearful too, but I don't think he remembers why.
I told him because he remembers my name when he flies with me. If he stops flying with me, then he'll forget me. Forever.
I...
I hope he comes home.
Suddenly, a burst of energy rushes into the room. A loud crash, a sudden boom.
The window is wide open, and my stallion is on the floor.
"Soarin!" I shout, getting out from the sheets. I rush over to his side, and see his face, which is scratched up all to Tartarus.
I sigh and hold him close. "You idiot..."
He just smiles. "F-Fleetfoot."
My eyes widen. "D-Did you just say...?"
He nods. "I remember now, Fleety."
I couldn't hold back the tears. He's back--for now.
I kiss him on the lips, our tongues meeting. We flee, we attack; we dance, we romance; he and I are one in another, flying high. We gasp for breath as we lay on top of each other, our tails intertwined. I smile. "I missed you all day."
He smiles. "I missed you too, Fleetfoot."
"Can we stay like this forever?" I ask, resting my head on his chest. "I don't want to stop hearing you."
"You don't have to stop, Fleetfoot," he replies, his fresh flight smell tickling my nostrils. His neck feels nice. "I'll be here."
He doesn't know that I love the night too. I love him at night so much. He remembers. Remembering as we soar.
I kiss him. "Let's continuing flying, shall we?"
He nods and strokes my cheek. "Anytime with you."
And so we do, my lips on his.
We mingle once again. He remembers me.
I hope this doesn't end, but I won't see him again.
Until the very next night, when I hear him calling my name...
