Downtown Train

The days are so cold, so gray, she texts from another world and says the air won't quite make it all the way into her lungs and she doesn't know what to do but try to get the time to pass. I walk through a softly shuffling museum and nod. There was a dress there I think you'd like, but it was a little too much color, perhaps, yet. I keep writing you letters, piling them next to the typewriter and I don't know what to do with them. The tap tap of the keys is so comforting in the silence, and maybe that is enough.

There's a mist in the air tonight, it softens the contours of the city and holds you without demands. They say tomorrow will be warmer, and the day after warmer still. A calm sits at the back of my spine, it hums and smiles and breathes for me, and when I remember to, I let it hold the reins. It knows winter will thaw, it knows the colors will shift and that this, too, shall pass. And because it does,
so do I.