When my sister sits on the train
She loves people watching
And she watches the murals go by
Like sunsets and rises
Of new days
My sister does not dwell on the tracks
When we walk to the train.
They terrify her
She runs past them,
She is anxious and evening and morning.
The train is a path to the next day
I have never seen someone dwell
On the train tracks
Waiting for a train to come
To dissolve the path to the next day
And leave them dead
But I wonder
If that one who passed yesterday
Was once terrified of train tracks
And if they ever rode the train
Before there were murals
On a path to the next day.

i’m not the type of girl who kisses boys
by the train-tracks in the moonlight.
not the type who falls so hard for them,
sneaking outside her window and tumbling down her slanted roof-top.

i’m not the type to fall.

but when i look at you,
when i hear your voice,
soft, breathy, and kind i begin to wonder if we could ever make this work
-if i could love you and never leave you, if you loved me back.

i wonder, if i’ll have the courage, to ask
while drinking a pumpkin spice latte for the first time,
if you’d go to a dance with me.
would you kiss me in the moonlight?

would we be able to love each other,
yet only remember beautiful ghosts of dancers swirling around our blurry forms?
do you think i could see you in your dorm,
decorated with streamers and schools, and still be yours?

i’ll never be the type of girl who kisses you
by the train-tracks in the moonlight.
but i would fall hard enough,
if only you feel with me.

take my hand and jump off this cliff and into an endless sea.