Thursday morning, six climbing to seven,

33 degrees it was, enough frost for her toes to numb, a constricting and burning sensation

The sun crept over the horizon, its rays bleeding into the navy sky.

Through the coarse trees the light traveled, reflecting off the frosty grassland, she trotted down her homes slope.

Purposeful breathes escaped her thin lips, a white mist drifting off with every exhale.

Her inner child danced at the feel of winter, a time, her time.

Across the street she skipped, the wind cupping her face in brisk palms

She made it towards her stop… Route 27.

It was empty onboard, a few faces, none she knew.

Claiming her seat near back, she rode to the station.

She was moved to stay onboard despite the extra journey rather than transitioning her lift

But why wait… Route 29.

Old faces left while new boarded, at the station she was.

Claiming another seat, right side, front of back, she swung her bag onto her lap.

It was warm, almost comfortable as the bus swayed from the course ground.

Her ebony scarf hugged her head, she gently leaned against the glass window.

Clasping her cinnamon hands around her device, the sounds from her buds just light enough to comprehend.

Between her leggings they went, it would be a long ride...40 minutes.

There were no voices, the ‘vroom’ from the vehicle filled the atmosphere, little stops.

People began boarding sometime in, new faces, fewer seats.

Next to her remained cold.

One seat, people looked, then people stood.

Her chocolate eyes and deep brows watching life outside her window.

Occasionally her eyes would meet, it would break after an instant.

’what’s wrong with me?... ⅓ whole.

Another stop, people boarded.

Up she looked once more, a glance towards a stranger, through the plastic screen front of her.

Vanilla colored skin, light eyes she saw, then a break.

It would be all she would remember of his face, towards the window in an instant.

He split the crowd towards the back, there was nothing back there,

At least that’s what she thought.

Past her his front went, sliding his rear beside her, a swift sound of dedham bottoms against the plastic chair.

A strong fetor filled her nose, cigarettes, an addict.

She tried to be subtle, lightly sliding towards the window, giving him her space.

Contact she dreaded, the seat was now his.

Her irises traced the male beside her, quick glances, a gray hood shielding his identity.

Don’t be suspicious, she texted instead… 1 message.

It became warm, her discomfort melted away.

The odor subsited, shifting into the aroma of cigs, alcohol, and strong cologne.

Light enough to accept, strong enough to enjoy.

An oddly pleasing smell to her, she could not help but take subtle whiffs.

It was the smell of a ‘man’.

There was something about him, something she knew, liked.

Perhaps something interesting, a spark.

She looked over once more, his hands were clasped around his device, between his legs.

Elbows resting on thighs,

His clothing, the color of plum embodied his jacket, familiar to her, it’s style she had plenty of.

Mirroring.

She wanted to stay there forever, this odd comfort.

She felt him out like she would never meet him again, because she knew she would never meet him again.

Like that, she got used to his presence, it was enjoying.

Then came the final stop… 2 doors.

At the station, all filed out the two present doors.

The man stood beside her, awaiting those to pass, she stood.

Standing close to him, it was so short lived.

His back obscured her view, the color reflecting into her eyes, his fragrance dancing in her sinuses.

He slipped through the crowd before her, she followed.

‘I know him, something about him, follow’

She watched him, his subtle sway with each step, how fast he was.

She cut through citizens, slipped through the cracks,

Keep up.

Tapping her card, she walked down the steps, his back not too far before her.

She tapped her device, its camera pointing towards him, perhaps he reminded her of somebody.

Perhaps so much more than that.

He took his seat on a booth while she stood for the train.

His back again.

Her eyes peered up, the train was to be here… 6 minutes.

Delays, multiple trains came her way, opposite direction.

She peered over her shoulder every once in awhile.

‘He’ll leave’,

His back.

Almost 7, toes missing, warm Ebony scarf.

Camo jacket not doing much for her palms, fingers began stiffening.

Perhaps her destination was better than being here.

Not true.

He sat motionless, she lightly shook, his gray sweater remaining stiff.

An announcement, the train was arriving.

A glance towards him, he stood.

Almost seven… 55 past.

He swayed behind her, she touched his presence one last time, she knew.

The roaring of the train began to rise, he was to her left.

A glance upwards towards the time she thought, his eyes is what she met.

A quick pull away she made, towards her transportation.

Shyness.

‘He would get in the next cart’ .

The train pulled along the tracks, she eyed its carts.

’Unless',

The train stopped, one cart long enough to reach the both of them, lucky one she always thought of herself.

She boarded, picked a spot to stand.

It was crowded as a result to delays, not a surprise.

She looked towards him, far end of the cart,

As people pulled in his image was pulled away, obscured.

Last glance, his hand.

It would be one stop before she parted ways with him, a man who would forget about her most definitely.

She did not care, an experience was all it was, she would leave with knowing him

With the feeling of being by him.

‘I’ve met him before, somewhere’.

She reflected, this day she would remember, if not, this morning… 9th.

Her stop came, she dragged herself out the train doors.

With her best steps, she walked from the cart.

She did not want to leave, she wanted to sit by him once more.

She did not know him,

But she did not love him either.

She could not even remember his face, all she knew was that jacket,

its hue,

Plum, red-purple.

He was much older than herself, so such thoughts were absurd.

Perhaps in a place, during a time deprived of the feelings he gave her

It could be all she ever asked for.

A seat by him for just a bit longer, but that would take a miracle.

Perhaps it was a phase all went through, after all she knew as little about herself as she did him.

Perhaps she could find that feeling within herself, that feeling of comfort, familiarity

It was an odd, but possible thought.

Regardless, she had his back, it would be all she needed to remember the feeling, to see the color.

The color of his jacket, that red tinted color… 16 years.

‘Maybe, I’ll just repeat this morning once more’... 27

‘Another day, same time,’... 29

‘Just maybe, I’ll experience this again,’... 40

'I'll experience him again.'

#poetry #Narrative #self #Imagry #Non-fiction #Experience #Comfort #Beauty

The hole,

the home that was made in my chest.

The empty cavern that wallows about,

a vacancy that now eats away at my anger,

at my presence with its everlasting hunger.

The denial,

the nagging ache,

the pressure arising from a presence of loss.

It veins that crawl to my brain,

my very thoughts I cannot escape,

an illusion,

my santuaty.

Waves of silent cries,

consuming all of the presence and prettiness that has been left behind.

A desperation to rid itself

of the devastating violence of separation,

to rid itself of its own emptiness.

The endless obsession of what is left of a time we’ve shared.

My friend,

my reminder of a loss,

to what it was I really desired.