On Moving

Anxiously waiting 

to feel something

-anything

aside from the 

cold breeze

that tears

through the 

swaying trees.

Watching the train 

charging forward 

without restraint 

-knowing that

it will roll me over

utterly destroying

the self-constructed

shell I call 

home.

I cannot help 

but wonder

if this 

-if just this-

is what 

love

has 

done 

to

me.

 

~

I whisper 

through clenched eyes and quivering teeth,

Goodbye.

See you next time. 

~

The seeing glass

shatters between my hands.

What was the saying again?

Everything falls apart.