The sound of the train arriving on the platform,
the way you let it go, and wait for another, not wanting to get on any train,
just love waiting for them,
waiting for someone?
Always, I say,
I’m always waiting for someone, aren’t you?
Well, I guess, you say, but not like this, I know who I’m waiting for,
and I ask, surprised, as if hearing such words for the first time,
you know their face?
And you say, of course, I knew them since I was a boy, and I feel envious,
maybe a little happy, or sad, I don’t remember the difference between the two,
I have the memories of someone but not their face, I tell you,
a memory of a voice that stuttered when that person was being loved by life,
always surprised when someone told her she was so nice,
someone who deserved happiness from all sides of life,
never a tear in a eyes, but that’s all she got,
and she accepted it as her fate, and I felt so sad,
I wanted to give her my share of happiness but my share wasn’t that much, and she was a part of it,
and since she disappeared one day,
so did my share, and now all I can do is wait,
wait for the right train, wait for the time I’m ready to live my life again,
this is just a stop, a break point, this station, this train,
you with your brand new suitcase,
you with your eyes full of tears,
and me sitting here,
waiting for the next train, and then you’ll be gone, just like everyone.