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If this train’s going forwards, why does it feel like we’re going back?
Back to the place where we first met, so you can go
Back to the place you call home, and we can go
Back to being apart.
It’s only four stops now.
Four stops before we say goodbye.
Four stops before prickly eyes.
Four stops before we’re alone again.
It’s not forever.
Only a month.
But, fuck, that month is going to feel like forever
Now we know what we could be doing instead.
Now we’re here.
We’re on the platform.
Your train gets here too fast.
I need more time.
More time to tell you that I -
She doesn’t see people, so much as observe them.
Watching with an expression of curious amusement,
a child watching an ant.
She seems to find charm in places others wouldn’t even think to look,
As if to her, existence alone is a thing of beauty.It’s rather appropriate, I suppose,
that this makes her all the more beautiful to me.
