Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Train

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Waiting for a train means tasting a life to come
Not swallowing, but simmering it on the tongue
To watch the ambitions of the metal rails (to dare to roar)
Unbroken in their trek to the horizon

I sit here waiting, watching the rain shatter(or is it me?)
On my clenched pale fists
Like so many truths losing their sharpness to puddles
I cannot distinguish the raindrops in that vague pool at my feet

I sit here waiting, watching the years change color
What lives once, must die (to dust, to dust)
the burned-out wick of trust, drowned in its own oil
And rusted with broken tears

I sit here waiting, watching your shadow loom
Breathing glassy fragility into my shoulders
I break up the harsh silhouette into so many fragments of you
Perhaps easier to hold
(perhaps less sharp around the edges)



Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

NG123 said...
Aug. 31, 2012 at 3:18 pm
 The imagery in verse three was nice. People don't imagine oil drowning someone or something and tears don't normally cause rust.
 
Site Feedback