zone 2 to 2. a railway. it might be a love story.

[timetobuttonmash]

silently

take my hand. we should perform a grand tragedy.
i am silent, and do not say this aloud.

set the scene:
it’s hot and eye-wrenchingly bright, in that way late afternoons are;
none of that golden hour beauty,
but all the sweat and heat and dust that clings to your eyelashes.
i’m sticky. i don’t like it.

my heart’s beating out of my chest.
120 beats just by standing, if you must know.
it’s not out of love. sorry.

we must catch the next train.
it’s not much,
the distance to travel,
so sit with me.

the mic system's broken, maybe
or just dysfunctional.

let the clackclack of the rails lull you to sleep,
and the curtains forever close.