The train departs at 9.

We’re going somewhere.
We are on our way.

The bags were packed the night before and our clothes for the morning draped over thickly upholstered chairs.

The crows stopped screeching long enough for the moon to rise and the neighbors across the way fucked out of spite.

I stood by the window in this compacted city watching it play out before me. The wind leaked in through the old glass and I shivered.

The channel in the glass changed and I saw your reflection, pulling back the covers on the bed.

One more night here.
One more night that’s all.
One more night here.
We’re leaving in the morning.

Before the others come.

Tick tock, tick tock. Swish, swish.

You shake those hopes in that thick lace that drapes round those bones, over that flesh.

Tick tock, tick tock. Swish, swish.

Yeah, your hips move too.

I do this… Frequently. Every day. From late morning through the afternoon ’til the early eve. -If I’ve nothing else going on, which is every day these days.

I listen to old things spinning ’round the record player and I create stories in my head. Thinking that if God did exist, if fate and destiny were proven things… I would have been a woman back then. Because in this day and age, I’m always a girl… And it shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t have been.

I dance around, dance with the music until others come home. I dance and I dance.

Yeah memories flood in. Of past lover’s hands and mouths. Of where I was when… Of where I could be… Of who was there… Who was not.

“Oh what the moonlight can do…”

And yeah, every last bit breaks my heart. Sometimes it causes me to laugh, sometimes to cry. And that’s why I can’t do it when others come home.

So while I’m alone I can sway, I can move, I can be what I should have been.

Trumpet and trombone could have made the tower. Dusty voice, the cable that ties.

“Because that’s how it goes when…”

The trees, the myth, the song.

In just under a week I’ll be back in lands that I know.

Rarely do I take pictures.
If I want something to be caught, I rely on the eye of others.
And if I really miss it, I ask to have.

I don’t believe in freezing the time when I’m only with myself.
It doesn’t need to be proven.
I’m the only one that needs to know.

But,
In just under a week, I’ll put my camera to good use.
I won’t rely on the eye of others.

No, I’ll catch it for myself.
A tribute in some respects,
To what is,
what used to be.

But more than that,
I have finally fallen in love with trying to forever obtain
the craze, the spunk, that runs through us all.

Because it really is something to appreciate.

Especially after I’ve gone,
again.