muse:trains.

muse:
it's hard to keep waiting in that old abandoned train station for you to come by. you always say "i'll be on the afternoon train." so i keep waiting on those old, rotting, rickety benches for you to come. the drafts blow through the crumbling stone columns, but still i wait. i wait for you, because that's all i've ever known. waiting.

whenever i've asked someone to wait for me, i show up. most of the time. most of the time, my train comes on time and i run off to meet whomever i've asked to wait for me--and of course they're always a bit disappointed but there's always the relief of having made the meeting.

but with you, the train never comes. i'm sure that nobody's visited the train station where i wait for you, day in day out. the ticket booth is always empty, the speakers just blare static, and the temperature monitor doesn't even work. i'm not even sure that a train runs through here anymore--the new gauge of the tracks is much wider than this, someone once told me. but habit and something else always push me down the stairs and down into that dump.

you always make it hard to leave the platform too, you, with your gentle hugs, your heartfelt whispers, and your promises of "being back to talk to you more." i learned long ago that that phrase actually meant "i'm not coming back" or "i'm not talking to you anymore" but still i wait on the platform. i'm not sure how long it's been, but i know for sure that it's nothing like waiting for godot--i know what you look like. or... at least i'm sure i know what you look like.

so i'll just sit or stand here and wait all day, all night, all week, all year, all my life for you to come.

but of course, you never will.