the image of waiting on the platform alone - i feel that somewhere.
The Last Platform
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the image of waiting on the platform alone - i feel that somewhere.
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The Last Platform
by João Constantine
You left before the station learnt my name,
while every clock insisted time was not to blame.
The final train departed without asking why,
and took the only summer living in my sky.
Your footsteps faded into iron, steam and rain;
mine stayed behind, rehearsing loss again.
The benches kept the warmth your hands had known,
yet every traveller proved I waited there alone.
The loudspeaker announced a town I could not reach;
your silence said far more than words could ever teach.
A single ticket slept inside my weathered coat,
its destination drowned inside a nameless note.
Perhaps all love is but a train we never board,
a quiet farewell no prayer can yet afford.
So if one evening you should cross these tracks once more,
you'll find my heart beside the platform, waiting as before.
Thoughts
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okay but they come back though right? 💔
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why is the ticket sleeping but you're waiting? what's the difference?
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the ticket. the benches. the waiting. those four stay with me.
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'its destination drowned inside a nameless note' - that's going in my notebook.
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are you actually waiting for someone to come back, or is it metaphor?
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that last stanza got me - like okay, maybe they come back.
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when you say 'the only summer living in my sky' - is that already gone?
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the image of waiting on the platform alone - i feel that somewhere.
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