She boards the train

as if it were nothing,

as if leaving everything behind

were easy

as if everything and everyone

mean nothing to her

as if laughter and tears

had never shared a moment in her eyes.

 

She boards the train

as if she’s never known

what homesickness means,

as if moving her whole life

to another place

didn’t require all the stages of grief

as if friendship came

with a “how to build” tutorial

Never shedding a tear when saying goodbye

 

You might think

the feeling of home

was foreign to her tongue

But as she boards the train

with trunks and suitcases,

compartmentalising her life

feelings in one box

clothes in another

pain metastasising through her veins,

a cold shudder

Only visible for the keenest eye.

 

Many would say

her relationships were just bridges

that lead nowhere,

as if every cafe, restaurant,

every street that knew her name

were obsolete

as if we were just placeholders

in the scheme she calls life.

 

She boards the train

and does not look back.

 

But as the train moves,

she collapses.

 

She lets her tears flow

like acid rain on her cheeks

Leaving watery paths

across her porcelain skin.

 

Every suitcase,

Every box she packed,

feels heavier than her heart.

 

She combusts

Another beginning cut in half

Another root that will never grow

Another river that will never reach the sea.

 

She weeps

for the self she’ll rebuild

for the next goodbye

already waiting at her destination.

 

She cries because she knows

She will start planning her next

exit as soon as she arrives

 

Another meaning of homesickness

will be engraved in her heart

because this city was not really her home

None of them were.

None of them will be.

And as the train leaves the station

She wonders

if she’ll ever find home.

​​​

Him

He prayed for bad weather

He never used to pray before

He’s never understood religion or meditation

His only saviours came in prescription bottles.

 

But that day,

He prayed for bad weather

for the universe to interrupt her leaving.

She used to say she’d only stay

if some divine intervention came her way.

 

She was big on the laws of the universe

and appreciated the little things in life

that felt too precise to be chance.

 

He prayed for bad weather

for the rain to act as a sign,

an epiphany that he still loved her,

that he always did.

 

He prayed for bad weather

so she would want to stay.

He prayed for bad weather

so the sky could cry for her.

He prayed for bad weather

so the rain could hide his tears.

 

He supplicated,

But the sky didn’t answer.

He implored,

But God didn’t listen either.

Not like they ever did

but he hoped his pain was loud enough

to earn their pity.

 

He begged

He screamed

He shouted

 

He let out his anger,

his rage, his fear.

 

He stumbled

and knelt.

He looked at the sky

and prayed.

 

But the sky didn’t answer

blue as the ocean below,

the sun blazing over him as

if his pain meant nothing.

 

He prayed

but the sky laughed.

The sun stayed bright,

relentless, unclouded.

 

And when he cried,

his tears burned his face.

And when he collapsed,

his faithless organ

which some of us call heart

Broke

and the sun shone brighter.