Home

the train

by Frank Lee

miserable
death. taxes. me on a barstool,
we were,
miserable and in love

it was a slow habit,
something you denied.
was a slow habit,
probably wouldn't admit that you tried...

steady
every
other day

steady with the
slow, sloppy
overeducated pay.

we were happy
momentarily
with a bank account

we were the trial
run
handsome, on the run.

so it was
so it were
life a big blur

i don't miss the euphoria
i just miss
the conversation

no hesitation
no memory

just you
and me

on the tracks, the r6 waiting,
for a sign,
just you and me,
18, our futures on the line,

i wish it were
as simple now
as it was then.

and i wish the words
out of my mouth they meant
what i meant

because i love you now like
i loved you then
but it will never be the same

a lame 8 chord melody
will never replace

the times we had
the memories
that we made

i love you now
like i loved you then
i hope you are happy.

(shotgun blast)

04/05/2009

Author's Note: wish you were here

Posted on 04/06/2009
Copyright © 2024 Frank Lee

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/06/09 at 04:14 AM

Y

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/06/09 at 04:15 AM

Gah... Sorry. You almost don't need that shotgun blast. The poem moves furiously towards it anyway, leaving a lot of great visuals and language in its wake. That's just me though. Great write.

Return to the Previous Page
 

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)