You placed your hand on the small of my back
gentle, familiar, nothing new.
We kissed, but only the kind that lacks
a pause, a pull, a scene to cut to.

The doors hissed open. You stepped outside.
I stayed behind, still holding breath.
I didn’t look up, I couldn’t decide
if your eyes held warmth, or just the end.

What if they begged me not to move?
Or worse, looked through me, blank and kind?
So I stared ahead, not brave enough
to read the truth you’d leave behind.

But just before the train pulled free
I caught your eyes. And they caught me.