The station, 1903

We walked to the station in silence.
Your bags had been packed for a week.
I told you I was happy
you were chasing after all you seek.

But my grief was welling up inside.
My strength taking its toll.
I wouldn’t look your direction
for my spirit I couldn’t console.

Your hand touched my back and I stiffened.
A deep breath I breathed out.
I know it sounded of disgust
but sorrow is what it was really about.

I heard them make the announcement
it was nearing your time to go.
I wanted to waltz out of those doors
and never look back or show

you, how my heart was breaking
for having to say goodbye.
A piece of me was dying,
dying deep inside.

You turned around to face me
and tilted your head against mine.
I could feel your sadness too,
but where do we draw the line?

This is my station in life
I’ve come to accept that fact.
But you were meant for greater things
go, and don’t look back.

With an aching in my heart
I gained the nerve to say
“Don’t kiss me right now
if you’re going to walk away.

For I can only forget you
if our lips never touch.”
Yet you pulled me close,
how I longed for this so much.

You cupped my face between your hands
and placed your lips to mine.
This is the moment where our grief
met the great divine.

“I don’t want you ever to forget me,”
you whispered in my ear.
Then turned to board the train
as dampness infused the atmosphere.

I watched as you grew smaller,
disappearing into the night.
A kiss to linger on my lips,
only memories to hold me tight.

___

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