Thereís a hiss released as the train starts;
A hiss thatís echoed in our hearts.
Tension and pain melt like wax,
And are shuttled hurriedly down the tracks.
My fears were confirmed
When she departed;
Weeks, months, years
Before we started.
Her tracks were lain;
I know she didn't choose,
But she should have stayed,
And taken my abuse.
Tear-stained lips left such a taste;
And I remained alone to face
Life, through grey eyes.
How can you move?
How can you rise,
When all is grey,
From grass to skies?
Why did she try to advise
Me, through eyes that were disguised;
But I was able to read the lies
Of her hollow and false goodbyes.
But let me revise
And surmise, despite my concerns,
Why it is she now returns.
I left him, sadly, but I had no choice.
I only hope he will rejoice,
When he holds me once more and whispers low,
ďI love you and will not let you go.Ē
My breath freezes in the air,
And it pleases me when Iím aware;
But if you donít mind, please allow
Me to share a metaphor about how
My breath believes it is free to roam;
For it thinks it has no home;
But even now I see it fade,
As it realizes it should have stayed.
A poor decision.
As it disappears
From my vision,
I feel betrayed
By its derision.
Like the jade
That left me cold,
Telling me her scene
Had grown old.
But she was keen
And learned to fold;
So I can hold
Her and tell her this,
Through the trainís moan and hiss,
ďI have not missed you, not one kiss.Ē
My train will follow only these rails,
Which are held fast by iron nails.
All itís life itís had no choice,
Itís been stifled quietly, it has no voice.
Return to me love,
I ask you kindly.
You left me love,
You did so blindly.
When you will learn
Tear-stained cheeks, like those you gave
Will be returned to you my knave.
The scene is grave;
I will be brave,
Since when I see her,
I must behave.
Tracks lay rigid, directing me.
Are they connecting or dissecting me?
Must I submit to their will,
While the power to choose lies in me still?
I hear the train a-cominí,
Itís rollin down the bend;
And I ainít seen the sunshine
Since my little friend
Left me and tried to pretend
I wasnít bereft
By her theft;
But I am deft,
Or is it daft?
Weíll see who was the last
To have laughed.
For my craft
And I will cast
And not leave
Till Iíve seen her cry.
Whatís the best decision of your life?
Was it marrying that girl, making her your wife?
Or was it starting that business, opening that shop?
Mine was simply choosing the wrong stop.