Whereever you are,
I am not;
I am somewhere else,
trying to find out
what was lost
by you,
when I dreamt
of the time that we would spend together
all the way into life
and you ran away.
You claimed you were not ready.
That you were terrified
of who you were,
and who I saw you could be,
once you decided to step into
the fight of your life.
You took another train,
another face. Another kind of rain
racing down my heart of hearts.
My very gay gaze
and I didn't want you to try,
I think.
The way the carriages go bump in the dark;
I would have preferred if you had let the dream
sink away into what would never have been
in the first place.
This is where I got off:
into my own bittersweet longing,
into the yearning
that never actually arrives on time,
and never ever waits
for the very last train.
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