I’ll Be Gone

Early morning along the river, it really is winter now but how beautiful it is in its cold sunrise and twirling smokestacks, the sharp contrast of glass buildings and the way pain reminds you you are alive. I sat on the train, later, and felt melancholy sink its tired teeth into my lungs. There is too much to this life, for every pour of joy there’s a tidal wave of the opposite behind it to overwhelm you.

I have to remind myself to take deep breaths now, where they used to happen on their own. I know this vise around my rib cage will let up eventually. This train is so long, is all, and I never seem to arrive where I meant to.