Train

I am hurtling away
from you, at a speed
that could be quicker.
9-5 drudgery, the
daily commute,
tarnished by miles
of space between us.
Piss-stained floors,
and creaking doors,
“welcome to this South
West train service
calling at Twickenham?”
Even the guard is unsure.
I breathe in his uncertainty.
I am very aware that
I am moving further
away from you, and
closer to him.
And I don’t mind that
one bit.

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