last train

and as the last train approached the station,

i thought i saw her in the blur of people–

men in grey blazers, women in plain suits,

children curled up in the cold seats asleep–

i thought i saw her in a ripped-up blouson dress,

champagne gold the station almost felt warm.

my fingernails dug into my train ticket,

locations unknown, without a time of arrival.

the back of her hand pressed against the window,

her head slumped into her palm unmoving;

firm, slender fingers entangled with waves

of soft black hair scattered on her lean shoulders;

in the crests and valleys of her undraped neck

i found the answer to the endless moments

in my head and the coldness worth suffering for.

(on the station display was no longer today’s date)

the ticket slipped from my fingers onto the tracks,

just as her last train drifted away from time–

- deathetix