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Aleeza Nov 2017
dreaming has always been
part of the fragments of who I am
used to trace storybooks on thin paper
trying to find a way
to recreate the beauty of it
I would tape posters on my walls
princesses and all those ideas I found
trying to will myself to be like them
chanting that I will find me within them
as I drifted off

and when I fell for the first time
all my dreams would come back
running its fingers through my hair
and whispering sweetness I forbade

and that was when I found words
letting them immortalize the dreams
that would haunt and taunt and sing
showing me a world that I wanted to touch
and yet was pulled away from

I met you and they started making sense
as the touch of the faceless  are echoed in yours
as your smile feels like coming home
as all the whispers soared into a song

yet I couldn’t understand
how writing you wasn’t easy
how putting all my dreams into words turned daunting
the more I let myself fall from the graces of heaven

so here I am now
with what I cannot let myself forget
the dreams I can never admit I had
with your face tattooed in my mind
and your name like stardust in my veins

I dreamt about how the mornings would be
the sunlight forgiving as it lit up your mouth
the coffee I never liked less bitter that day
as we giggle into each other’s shoulders
and I try to find a rhythm in tapping your skin

I dreamt about taking deep breaths
right before plunging into a sea
the saltwater stings and our laughter rings
our hair and our eyes spilled ink in the blue

I dreamt of lazy days in a cramped space
blasting the music we loved years ago
slipping on newly-scrubbed floors
cookies in an oven and a book in hand
our bodies finding odd ways to dance

I dreamt of rain on windows
as we drive around the town
going down streets we never knew
watching as the city lights sparkled
and snuggling up in our too-thin hoodies

I dreamt of long days that would end in hugs
holding all my tired bones
listening to my drowsy words
not admitting that I am tired as I nod off
goodnight kisses with my penguin pajamas on

random dinner dates at new food places
trying to survive spicy challenges
chugging down milkshakes and water
and laughing at our faces

holding hands on train rides
whispering jokes we stole from somewhere
sharing earphones and an overplayed playlist
making up stories about strangers

and as I look at your name in my contacts
I realize that it has been weeks, months maybe
since our words really meant anything to each other
since I could still remember your smile
because I remember dreams
but not the person in them
and you are but a faceless one yet again
in all those that still try to pull me in
and I understand now

you will only be a dream.
Sauvik Dey Apr 2018
Standing at the door of a coach
The train cuts through plains and valleys
Like a raft with wide oars albeit
Expressed in heaving breathes it soars.

It would take a season each to belong
He knew and blew his horn along, for he;
Who runs between rails and moves from-
Where we are to where we want to be.

"Haathi jaaye bazaar kutte bhawkein hazaar",
Not far fetched enough not to relate
A thousand remedies come and go
But the brute force of it remains.

Here is an elephant
We knew; we always did-
It knows as well; it always did;
No love lost was the truth indeed.

What are we to make of the day-
When murky do nights' end lay;
The loud rumble of the engine drown-
All doubts to vitality wipe all frown.

Life itself ran between the rails
Aboard the train, by the door, I stand,
Looking at age as it passes me by;
With stories which cradle and soothe me by.
An alliteration of thoughts to trains.
Micah Oct 2017
The wheels on my train go
Cowardice Cowardice Cowardice Cowardice Cowardice
Phew Phew Tired
Scared Fear Scared Fear Scared Fear Scared Fear Scared Fear
Phew Phew Paralysis

This journey has me exhausted and old
Useless running away into the desert
Lord it would be better if I were dead
Where is the voice now, I ask from desperation

Speak master for I am listening


*please
chloe fleming Oct 2017
You are the only light left at the end of the tunnel
But when I arrive,
You are gone.
Your existence- obliterated
Me- waiting.
aurora kastanias Oct 2017
My train is changing colours, turning blue seats red,
green and lilac by sapphire stripes separated still.
Only sparing white walls, and graffiti sliding doors,
marvelled upon entrance my eyes welcomed the gift.

A palpable surprise, for me and all passengers within,
overwhelming feeling, grateful for ideas,
coming into life as I chose to seat on emerald,
while other toy with ruby and end up choosing lolite.

Suddenly…

Heard a distant voice, somewhere in my mind,
found myself complaining a part of me I did not like,
about selected colours, come to think of it a little very dead,
defeating happy purpose as I engaged to blame,

whoever had the idea and the choice he made.
On roman trains changing colours
Anna Miller Oct 2017
The trains are always making me late.
Stoplights blink red.
Spend eternity here.

Feel the ground shake.
Make my legs tremble.
Feel tremor take my bones
railroad-hostage.

Watch the wheels roll over steel tracks.
Think my body splayed out on top.
Wheels make ****** body, bare
         all the teeth
         crush and snap.
Inside becomes chewed up and spit out.

Think yet another unconscionable death.
Another way to make the body break
         open, tear out everything leftover,
         push it through the softened skin.

Think another coward’s thought.
         Call it what it isn’t.
               Call it growing pains.
                      Call it impulse.
                             Call it coping.

Think through all this passing
train-time.
b Oct 2017
some serial killers return to the scenes of their crimes;
i just buy train tickets
and fall asleep on the shoulders of strangers.
as though we were in love,
as though it were ordinary.

and when we wake up
we'll laugh it off
and she'll say sorry,
and that train rides just make her sleepy.
ill say that's okay,
i didn't really mind.
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