Can you name all the two-sided platforms along the L train?
I think I can now, even if only by
Remembrance of all our goodbyes.
Of all those lonely nights and days, as the sky outside poured down sun, or poured down rain.
All those moments, from late last year, to late last night,
Waiting with you as I felt myself slowly go insane,
For the delayed Manhattan-bound and delayed Brooklyn-bound train
To come roaring, and pull us apart, out of each other's sight.
Last night I held you in my arms, looking down into the twin universes in your eyes so tired,
As you held your gaze up towards me, and spoke of all the abodes
You once rested in but never will again, of how only New York can ever be home,
For souls like ours, torn between continents, those that have only ever sought a stable heart(h) to rest their fire.
After such a tender embrace, how could I, of your feelings for me,
And thou, of my feelings for thee, still be left so uncertain?
I'm not sure either. Perhaps it's some trick of your beauty,
Or perhaps some trick fragile hearts, on themselves, play when continually broken:
To never trust good love when it comes, even when it lands at their feet.
Or perhaps we've lived this life before, and its memories only come back in conversation.
Perhaps you've always been Beatrice. And perhaps I've always been Dante, (only less creepy).
Perhaps, no matter the generation and no matter the nation,
Love, in all my lives to come, will always play out like we've here seen.
Perhaps it's only fate for one, o' bella, like you, to send this over-feeling mind of mine, like Majnun's, into distraction.
Perhaps it's just that every aspiring Petrarch like me,
Needs his heart torn asunder by a Laura,
Someone always betwixt his fingers, yet somehow always out of reach,
Someone always so near, yet somehow always so far.
