I'm directly on the opposite side of the train tracks from you. I'm immersed in silence, unblinking, and feeling rather left behind in sitting in plain sight of you, with your attention torn in another direction. My shoulders tense as a train flies past the station,a trembling uncertain symphony of shrills and rushing air. It tosses up your hair and I can see your eyes.
Your eyes. Your orbs of paradise, two deep and engraved circles, turning around and around in a ring, enclosing your love within that ocean. Clear blue, deep waters, a fragile iris tiptoeing around the burrowed black void in which your soul flows. I allow myself a moment of a silent smile through my own wooden brown amber eyes, and I felt the fade of reality make my heart flutter.
So close. I wonder if I stood with my heels to the edge of the bench in which I was now sitting, and raced toward the gap of train rails, I could clear it. My knees would bend, and I would spring from the pavement. My arms would spread out like a doves wings fanning out from either side of me, my hair would flame out behind me, and I would sail across those tracks, sail right toward your ocean in a gondola built of amber polished wood.
My lips quiver, and I am tugged down to the train station. I see your fingertips lock, your lips merge and your eyes close, from across the tracks. A blonde lock of wavy hair falls in front of your face a curtain of light to mark the end of my moment, as the head in which it belongs turns to rest on yours.
I blink, and a hole is burrowed deep into my own dark polished wood ships all the way through to the black globe in which it surrounds, splitting my soul clean in two. And the remainder of your cyclone of clear blue paradise collapsed. Memories of waterfalls gathered and finally, a clear teardrop was fallen and gone, and I could see.
I was in no need of another drowning pool. I had my own two legs, and one by one I would use them, and walk to a place that wasn't immersed in the remnants of you.
I jump slightly as my train screeches to a stop on the tracks in front of me. The doors pop, and gently slid open. Through the windows on the other side of the train I could see you, and her. For some strange reason your eyes catch mine through the panes of glass, and I flinch. I see something something deeper in them, some pain, and perhaps even regret, and suddenly the train between us felt very heavy, and very solid. But then I look from you to her, and back again, down at my fingertips, and at my own two feet.
I got up from my bench, stretched my legs, and walked into my train, because I have somewhere else to go. I have somewhere else to go, and my gondola was stranded for now. And for the first time, I think, maybe that's alright.