(no subject)

they whistle, the trains
as they come and go
I envy their freedom calls
through the window

they whistle, the trains
though they stick to their track
they can't help but face forward--
don't have to look back

I have to look back
my anger flares wrong
I know I'd feel empty
without metal song

there'd be something missing
something fresh, something old
we would never hunt treasure
if we never smelled gold

--

Although being reminded of what you don't have, however lovely...

I missed Houshi-sama today. I wonder how he is. Where he is. If he still thinks about me.

If he still has that ridiculous accent.

I don't even have his phone number--and I refuse to ask, which leaves me at wonder. Think. Muse. Sleep.