Safe from your empty arms.

I watched a couple
kissing on a train
and I felt my heart melt
and drip out into the cold
polystyrene cup of coffee
sitting in front of me.

Oh how the world seems
to bend and fragment
on trains.

But, cocooned in my
little shroud, I felt
your hands reach out
from across the distances,
pressing up against the
small of my back.

Then moving through
my chest, avoiding
my spine and the whole
mess of muscle and mucus,
like hands dipped in
warm water,
down into the cup
to retrieve my heart,
wring it out and place it
back at its warm centre.
Gently patting it down,
as if to say,
“There, there.
You can hold out
a little longer yet.”


4 thoughts on “Safe from your empty arms.

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