None of this over, no, not
start, not twiddle your thumbs
lined up for take off.
We only want the beginning
of the middle. To wake up
on a Saturday morning
instead of Sunday or whatever
the other options--maybe

she sees you back, wouldn't that
be nicer than standing
dripping de-icing fluid
on the tarmac,

If I stop my own heart,
will it stop loving you?
Will it stop hoping for you?
Will it stop longing for you?
Will it stop missing you?

If I stop my own heart,
will you start loving me too?
Will you start hoping for me?
Will you start longing for me?
Will you start missing me?

I wonder.

You never know how green
A leaf may be
Until you turn it over.

Don't mind how you start,
It's how you finish that matters.

When the train passed
The airport
Just now
You were
So close
For a moment
Again
Now the rain pours
On the train tracks
And I'm watching
As it falls

Noticing
I got cold feet
And the skin on
My neck hurts
Ever since I put on
This golden necklace
From my auntie
Who passed away
Before the snow
Eight weeks ago

I removed it finally
Figured it out
With difficulty
My brother put it
Around my neck
Sitting behind my back
Four hours ago

It is pretty
But it is stinging
Very much
My skin and throat

And I did not understand
Exactly
How to get out

Almost got upset
But took a break
To breathe
Amidst stinging pain
Then opened the clip
And escaped

The feeling is fading
As I pass the next station
Darkness is falling
Fireworks burn the sky
Windy rains ambush
My train from the side

Going much faster now
A window is rattling
Shrieking wheels cut
The monotonous sounds

I lost my eBook
So I can not read to
Relax and distract
The visions that grow
Beyond comprehension
And still burns my throat

Why we do things
And others
We want
We do not do
Is such a something
I don't think I
Should think about

Why my throat burns
And my heart turns
When it is you
I think about

My plan was to enter the new year without you in it.

To let midnight's fireworks be a mark of leaving 2018 and you behind.

I can't.

It's still you.

I'll take the risk of bringing you with me to next year.

As my grey area.

I'll leave our fate in the hands of 2019.