The Gap

Anotace: MM

Don’t lie on my shoulder -
I already carry a heavy burden there.
When you do,
my breath grows heavier.
Steam lulls my eyes to rest,
and my mind drifts
into a cave far away,
where echoes fade,
shadows sleep,
and the faint scent of damp stone lingers,
where, fortunately,
you cannot reach.

You see me - my body,
my self-control,
though a year stands between us.
My hand rests on the door,
ready to leave.
We stop.

The train exhales and slows,
metal sighing into the station.
Your head lifts, already elsewhere.
An apology forms, then dissolves
like mist on the windowpane.

I step into the gap of the open doors,
cold air cutting the warmth in two.
Nothing follows me out
but the weight I brought in.

I’m standing on the platform,
you’re not getting on.
A cheerful tune about freedom plays
as the doors begin to close,
and the only weight I carry
is the suitcase in my hand.

The doors slide shut.
Your silhouette fades
into the thinning light.
I won’t see you again.
Next stop: terminal.