weeds.

delayed on platform three

i can already feel your image slip.

i only found you yesterday, on the train

and the lights were out.

it was too late to turn away.

you had white eyelashes.
i remember that.

i remember the way your eyes settled on me

in a way that made me question my stance,

my disposition.

you ruffled me.
honestly.

and yet, i knew you.

i think you knew me.

in that moment, all i wanted was to be closer to the beating in your chest.

but the train stopped short

and you were gone, your legs strode further than my voice could reach

if i opened my mouth

which i didn't.

the solitary me stared where you had been.

maybe you'll end up as a passing thought, every so often.

or maybe you'll disappear entirely through the cracks between my fingers.

all i can say is, with what desire i have left in my chest

and every minute that passes,

i want to know you.

...

you had white eyelashes.

i remember that.

but your features are clumsily rearranged.

i can see that things have changed in a way that makes me question my stance,

my disposition- that's become just a little bit more fragile with the whipping of time.

you have ruffled me,
unsurprisingly.

in the hundred hours i have spent

on the fucking 156

i have not seen you once.
not wholly.

not heard your voice, nor held your gaze.

i will let you pass idly by
without a whisper.

we are strangers.

and after the smoke dissipates,
and the train docks,

all that will be left of us
is the warmth of our breath.

you had white eyelashes.

i remember that.

i remember the way your eyes settled on me-
for not much time at all.