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Wore a dress
Covering less
Of her body
Desired to make a happy
To her lover only
The night was cold
She prepared a hearth
The weather was misty
She prepared lamps
The winds sounds
Deaf ears
She broadcasted song
The time went
Faster than the train
The desire and dreams
**** every wish
The nights' hours rush
As the flies push
Themselves towards
Light
The sun rose
He sent a message
"The weather is cold
I can't attend"
The lamps were off
The heart was off
The changed only
Wore
Her dress
one night, one could **** the other dream.making the heart bleeding
JAC Jul 2018
With a great silent sound
as station after station passes
a woman in a rose-covered satin shawl
gingerly rests her head against the glass

the papers that will bring her home here
in a backpack hugged desperately to her
the beaded bracelet from her daughter
slipping down her waning wrist

with fearless eyes and steely jaw
she slows her pulse to just over normal
the black columns holding tonnes of city
whipping past her rattling window

clickety-clack
clickety-clack
clickety-clack

the tired train track
beats like a weary old heart.
I love bringing the sound of the train into stories.
JAC Jul 2018
If I saw you on the same train
stranger as you'd have been
I might wonder your name

if I glanced your way
and you caught me
I'd die in my tracks

and if you sat next to me
without a word or a smile
I'm sure I'd never forget you.
A cute little love poem, sort of.
Natasha Jul 2018
It wasn’t so much
Like falling
As it was being hit
By a fifty-ton train
That jolted me awake.
Bryden Jul 2018
I push the button,
3
2
1
The jaws of the train clunk as its mouth opens,
the 9am crowd surging through its hollow body,
eying up the row of sickly plastic benches.
The wheels tighten, I loosen my tie,
off to the office, I sigh,
as I pull out today’s ‘New York Times’.

My eyes drift towards the woman across from me.
A fragrance of citrus and strawberry drifts off her shoulder
as she plumps her pout in the screen of her smartphone.
A bead of sweat poised on her collarbone
glitters like the diamantes on her nails.

We slow,
screeching against the rusted tracks
before the machine-lady hybrid speaks:
‘East-
a split second pause
-Sixty Seven Street’.
No one gets off, so we simply sit
beneath the sizzle of electric bulbs,
their garish light numbed by ***** glass
that cradles the bodies of last week’s flies.

Like an aged rattlesnake, the train creaks and hisses through the tunnel.
I’m attacked by a river of thick black hair
belonging to an olive-skinned woman who yaps into her cellphone:
‘no, no, quiero ver Times Square!’
I close my eyes and listen as her tongue rolls and dives
taking a bite of my bagel from Starbucks.

‘East-
anticipation
-Seventy Two Street’.
Although preoccupied with different thoughts,
expressions
destinations
the bodies on the carriage drift and sway with the motion of the train,
as it stops
and starts once more.

Two children in uniforms twirl around the carriage,
their laughter more electric
than the current that bristles below our feet.
A man
tickled by the dreadlock that sweeps over his face,
looks on with jeans so baggy
his legs melt into the seat.
The Jamaican flag blares from his t-shirt.

Next to him, a man bakes in a moth-eaten waistcoat
clutching a wallet with quivering fingers.
I follow his gaze to a picture of a woman
black and white with coffee stained edges.
His wrinkles deepen as he smiles at his
wife?
alive?
I notice glittery pools of the past forming in his eyes,
perhaps not.

‘East-
my stop
-Seventy Nine Street’.
As I glance down at the platform’s monotonous shades of concrete,
and brush the dust from my grey tweed suit,
I think to myself
how colourful Upper-East Side is.
I shall never stop travelling on the 9am subway to Seventh Avenue.
Without it,
how boring my life would be.
Without it,
I wouldn’t be me.
Stella Jul 2018
There’s the angel nodding at me
Just as I was thinking about independence
Or commitment?
Well aren’t they the same thing, anyway.
The typewriter unnumbs my brain
Makes it lose its soft malleability
That Ancient Greeks so despise to this day.
I can be good in that frozen brain
But I can’t be well. She looks
At me and smiles like a cat
And I get scared of the feathers of her words.
The sand the figurine
The cancer
All a grainy, grinding noise in my hand
She sees through me
And I am left with no one I can hide from
To ease my separation anxiety.

The keep where I keep my own mind’s words
Is looking at me, rejected.
That is because the angel’s words I need so much, that whe-
-n they finally arrive I’ve got to grab them before they get the chance to pull and drag me.

Drag me. Type type type. And then you wonder why I started getting migraines.Thirty soon and every decade it gets deeper. The disturbance. The divergence. The ******* through the elements of the dullest childhood in the whole **** world.

The end of some kind of sense.
The train
flew past us,
we were there,
waiting for our
time, until,
he walked
towards
where I  
was to
be found,
he nestled
my body
In his
arms,
I looked up,
gazing
deeply,
I Iistened
as he
said,
you are
the one
who has
not yet
known
the truth,
I will tell
you, the
one who
has been in
tears, when
you are broken,
you will always
remember,
to love who
you are
and others,
the untold
story lies
beneath,
bring the
torn fabric
and sew
your heart
back together,
you will heal,
as I have always
done, you will
forget the dew
falling, and heal,
only then, will you
see how love is
unconditional,
when you see
with the heart
rather than
the eyes,
you will
see true
beauty,
let the
lost
clouds
come
together,
hold hands
and make
them feel
special,
warm them
with your
heart and
gently
place a
tissue on
their tears,
touch their
souls and
hold them
close, how
you want to
be loved is
how people
will love you,
you will look
at the night
with them
and say, we
are lanterns
of the sky,
filling the
oceans of
the universe
with the
galaxies
in our hearts,
we are more
luminous than
we think we are,
as the butterfly
unaware of the
delicacy of its
wings, resting
under the sun,
we are roses
opening
for the love
awaiting them,
yet, these hearts
are unaware
of how they
call for their
soulmates,
not knowing
their names,
rather, the
wind was
already within
the leaves,
creating the
music they
have known
before, the
tides becoming
one, as your
hand becomes
the pulse
of this heart
of mine, I
want you
to listen
when I say,
you are a
infinite light
shining
through
the cracks,
you are,
the one
and only,
stargirl.
Tyler Matthew Jul 2018
Say, pretty baby,
won’t you climb aboard this train with me?
Now, now, now, pretty honey.
Don’t think twice just come along.
It’s been a long time coming,
and we’re sure to be a long time gone.

When I got up this morning,
heard the whistle when the train got in.
Yeah, when I woke up this morning,
heard the train as it rolled in.
And I knew it was gonna be a good day.
I’ll pick you up quarter to ten.

Well, your daddy, he done left you.
Left you in that pourin’ rain.
And your momma, she’s no good, child.
Causes you all kinds of pain.
But me, I always been there for ya.
Come along and your heart won’t ache again.

You’re just workin’ day and night.
No friends to call your own.
Workin’ as a waitress day and night
with no friends to call your own.
Don’t you know I’ll be your friend, girl?
I’ll be whatever and you won’t have to feel alone.

Well, I see your got your dress on.
And, yes, I’ll take that as a sign.
Yeah girl I see you got your hair up.
I will take that as a sign
that we’re headed to Chicago.
I’m glad you made up your pretty mind.

Say, pretty baby,
I sure am happy you’re here with me.
O, yes little darlin’,
you made my day shine oh so bright.
Not much longer though, my baby.
We’ll get there ‘fore the end of the night.
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