Trains.
How lovely to be unknown amongst hundreds and thousands of hopelessly tragic faces. How relieving to not be forced to pass familiar places, to walk along the same long stretch of loss. That place where you drew the air from my lungs and wrote our story as our naked bodies danced upon one another’s. How peaceful to no longer feel you were the gravity that kept both battered feet on the ground and to know I’m able to reach inside myself and throw away our memories and make room to create my mind anew. To see lights with someone else, to hear a whole new tune, to dance again and again and again. To stand in this cold station with a warm cup in hand, waiting for all I’ve asked for, waiting to be someone’s, sincerely wanting with all I have. To not look at every similar feature upon someone else and crave their taste in hope they taste just like you. To throw out the curtains that blackened our room and kept us locked in together, to throw the garments which still carried your scent. To no longer want your possessions poisoning me, bringing me to my knees at every glance of those useless inanimate pieces of crap.
God, how good this feels.
