We're getting older.
Like the loons call from the lake.
A sense of sadness.

Darkness after light.

Cold passageways
and roads
I used to roam.

Streets I once lived on,
constant drone.

I hear the
pacing, pacing, pacing.

I am not alone.

I look past the screen
above the tunnel.

Someone is there.

Why oh why did I get high
before coming down here.

Coming down here to the silence.

I never understood the term
"silence is deafening"

until I started waiting for lonely trains
in lonely subway stations.

I used to live around here.
And yet
it feels foreign.

The cold rushing in
from the outside.

If I need to I could run.

Bike in hand,
up the stairs.

I hear the sound of the train coming now,
see the lights
enveloping that dark tunnel.

I'll be safe now.

Once I find a seat.


Commuting.

It's just something that's been nipping at me.

For a few years.

I think experimenting is normal.

All I mean by it, is that I would love for you to refer to me as a someone.
as a fairy
as a gem
as a them.

But I am also okay with being
perceived as
a female.

I love my **** and body.

But if you were to call me a they and then a them,

just know it sparks a certain amount of joy.

She/Them

I like it when people pat themselves down
to make sure they have
all of their belongings before they leave.

It's even better
when they mutter the words
out loud
to themselves.

Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, and Watch.


I like it when people's faces light up
when they are waiting for a friend,
and finally spot them.

I like it when people get startled
and apologize for it.
Like their fear may have
inconvenienced you.

I like when people look around
and make eye contact with strangers
when the subway slows down
or stops unexpectedly.

I like it when a large group of people witness something strange,
so strange
that they are forced
to talk about it
with people they may never see again.

I like it when somebody drops something,
and a stranger chases after them to return it,
even if it's just a mitten.

I like it when someone asks for a light
from a stranger, and they get one.
Even better if the stranger
lights their smoke
for them.

I like it when people ask for directions,
and the person giving them
uses large hand gestures.

I like it when crossing guards
protect grown adults.

I like seeing a couple during their honey moon phase.
All over each other and a little bit
inappropriate.

I like ti when babies make eye contact with you
as they pass by on their parents back.

I Like when several people stop
to admire a cute dog.

I like it when pedestrians
are nearly hit by a careless driver,
and all stop to talk **** about them
for a moment.

I like it when people casually
sing, hum, or whistle.

I like it when several people
have to gather around a small device
because they all want to see what's happening
together.  

I like seeing children I don't know
trudging home
in the snow
with toboggans,
rosy cheeked
and daydreaming of hot chocolate.

I like catching someone taking a selfie.

I like it when people open their palms to check if it's raining,
even though they can probably see that it is.

I like seeing people reading on the train.

I don't know.

Human's can be cute.

We couldn't be,
because she knew
I loved her.

I wish I knew why
that was wrong.

I can't be with you
because
I know you love me.

I remember her
face when I shut the door.

The way she bit her tongue
and called her mother
to drive me home.

They dropped me off in the rain,
when the pain
was just setting in.

I don't think I've ever been the same
since.

She knew
I loved her,
and yet she still
let me in.

She ****** on my heart
She played pretend.

"I can't be with you because I know you're in love with me."

She's a ghost to me now,
and that's why it still hurts.

I didn't do anything to her.

I just loved her,
and that's what I told her
the last time we spoke.

I wish this were a joke but.

It still hurts.

H if you're out there.

Please.

Give me the time
to at least,

Say

Something.

Like a river,
time can flow.

It can be stagnant.  

Mid morning nightmares for breakfast.

Some bad coffee,
from some bad place.

I face the day
like I face
my reflection.

Hesitantly,  
with teeth barring.

Lips curled,
into a suggestive
smile.

Stagnent,

like a swamp.

Of some forgotten tomorrow, over

yonder.

At least I remember the sweet song of the mourning dove.

the

Morning,

Dove.