Train to nowhere

I’m sitting on the train and I’m in love. I’m in love with friends who support me. Who refuse to let me diminish an achievement that came in the mail today. Who refuse to let my star dim. Am I a star? No. I’m lazy and boring and selfish and a narcissist. But they accept that. They see my flaws and they tell me, through glances at me via the window across the way and closeness in elbows locked in position by drunkeness, that I’m accepted. And yet still you are missing. I’d wrap my naked arms around you tonight if you were here. I’d burrow my nose and mouth into the crevice of your neck tonight if you were here. I’d press my hips against your butt as I squeezed you tonight if you were here. I’d kiss your cheek and whisper “I love you” if you existed. You’re out there. Are you drinking or are you watching Netflix? Are you dancing or are you sleeping? Are you smoking a cigarette on your porch dreaming of me; as I will in 43 minutes. I don’t know your name. I don’t know your face. I don’t know your life, but know that I’m coming. It might take me weeks; months; years. But I will find you. I will buy you a drink. I will make you laugh and place my hand on my heart as I fall in love with your curled lips and your squinted eyes. I’m traveling for now and, for the first time in a long time, that’s enough.

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