The Last Train

I feel the weight of your body,

all those memories bound, 

tingling on your skin – slowly release.

The traffic is fizzling out, lights 

softly darken and fade to oblivion,

as our eyes nearly meet.

Your hands weave around my back,

we are a knot sealed together,

destined to be broken, certainly,

swiftly, like night bleeds into day.

Drunken train passengers amble 

about my fraying body, a half

dislocated from a friend. 

The memory of you lingers,

flitting beyond twilight windows, shadows

turned to joyous shades of yesterday

as yesterday fades behind me,

and the announcement comes:

the train is terminating. 

By morning your face will start to fade,

with the weather and the words we spoke,

yet the bond will remain, the sense of warmth,

ineffable and boundless, it needs no name,

nor face, just a feeling of warmth,

a friendly light to guide the way, before

the drab dawn appears again and again.