railroad warning
Fiona Reenan
when i saw you standing there
on an empty train platform
waiting with a ticket
(to anywhere but here)
i held out my arm.
you turned to face me
and your eyes flashed
with light
grief
a depth i had never seen before
in any human being
animal
or god.
i was holding your sweatshirt
the only thing i had left to give you
(you had taken the rest)
and i have to say
before
when i imagined you leaving
(it happened more than it should’ve)
it wasn't like this.
it was supposed to be spectacular
(like fireworks)
take your breath away
(like fireworks)
and gloriously painful because i had let you too close to me
(like fireworks)
after all we were nothing more
then a damn good show.
that's what you told me
the night you screamed at me
because i had said
i loved you
you told me i didn't know those words well enough
to roll them around in my soft lips mouth
with the hot black coffee i like
(i love)
but no one else drinks.
so i swallowed them down
because you always know best.
i remember they tasted like candy
something sweet
and addictive
and bad for you.
and this why when we were standing
in those flashing railroad lights
and i had so many
(sugar coated and delicious)
things to say to you
all that came out was
“take it. you might get cold.”