I took the first train to a place I didn’t know last night. I thought I would find you there: waiting. So I wouldn’t stand there alone in the cold.
Home was just a house now. Nothing more to it. I bet my wishing for shooting stars were delayed by doubt. By innocence. I was young and what went on the television was truth for me. Each character I associated you to.
Sometimes I mumble to myself and, letting out something. They call it prayer, I don’t really know what it is. So in wake from a horrible dream, I gather my hands and pray. The first words choked me. I asked for forgiveness yet I was unforgiving. Full of anger, void of warmth. I seeked you.
On paper inked with broken pens, perfumed by your fragrance and bearing your name I seeked you. Travelling in a train without destination to find you. When I finally did your heart had found a home somewhere else. I was too late. Too angry, too hurt that I recognised my love for you after you had moved on.
Posted by P.A.W. from WordPress for BlackBerry.