BEFORE SAYING GOODBYE TO HIM
In the cold December winter,
after watching a movie together,
it was finally time
to say goodbye.
Standing outside
on the open platform,
in the chilling wind and storm,
we stood there
together holding hands,
as if this moment
belonged only to us.
We both knew
gloves waited in our pockets,
but neither of us reached for them,
choosing the comfort of skin
over fur and borrowed warmth.
We stood there,
close enough to hear
each other’s heartbeat
pounding hard in the silence,
wishing the train
would never appear.
But in the end,
beneath the silent sky,
we still had to loosen
our tightly held hands
when the train arrived.
BEFORE SAYING GOODBYE TO HER
Somewhere near the heart of your reply,
A movie that approaches its end
reminds me that there is no better place in the city
than the location that somehow places you close to me.
And for a moment,
I forgot that we are more than friends,
but you are not mine to say aloud.
A parallel world lives quietly inside us
while we share a cold winter in December,
drawing silent boundaries for my behaviour.
We wait for something that I don’t really remember
until it suddenly appears on the open platform
and takes you far away from me to the next station
as if you had never been here before,
waiting for nothing to happen.