on the train
in early mornings
i lean against the glass
and i watch the highway below bustle
with cars that belong
to people i don’t know
sometimes
i wish for impossible things
like going back in time
and not crashing that car,
not loving that boy,
not jumping
from a train platform
in the early hours
when no one
can process
what i’ve done
just yet–
not until midday will they realize
what they witnessed
and recall the sound
of my bones
shattering
on
impact