Pondering my last missive... was I ever? Just once was I so that I took the chance and carved initials into the fresh paint of a brand new train station somewhere far up the line.
MSR + ...
Then a year later, after the sobbing, gagging tears and the pain still feeling fresh though the affair had gone belly up 11 months prior, I was looking at my artwork and promising that I would never fall that hard again. Never one to keep promises to myself the next one was even harder, and the next harder still. Then more promises and broken promises and eventually I got a handle on what love was and wasn't and what was just burning loneliness and fear.
I've forgotten that once or twice since, life circumstances being what they are and coming as they will.
Then I would remember again and forget again, and then just come to accept that loneliness doesn't have to burn.
And so on.
And so we beat on, boats against the current, born back ceaselessly into the past... thanks Mr. Fitzgerald.
That new train station became old quickly and my souvenir painted over, and then the building was torn down and replaced. That's how things work.