Jealous

To The Lady on the Train,

Yes I am jealous.

I am jealous of the way your shirt clings to your body.

I am jealous of the way your dress swings from your hips when you move.

I am jealous of the breeze that brushes past your skin.

I am jealous of the sheets that you lay on as you dream.

And I am jealous of the moon,

Even with all this distance,

there he is to watch you sleep

And I am jealous of the sun,

there she is to watch you wake,

and greet you every morning.

While all I can do is whisper to the stars how they can never be you.

The Man in the Station

Where I want to be

 To The Lady on the Train,

The scent of you filling me and the taste of your skin on my lips is the closest to heaven I've ever been. It is my favourite place to be.

The Man in the Station

Cartography

To The Lady on the Train,

I do not know how to map an entire universe with just my hands, but I have traced the constellations on your skin. I have fallen through a galaxy of stars just looking at you as you turn toward me. I have discovered worlds of unimaginable beauty by listening to your sighs.

You are magic and have condensed time and space into your form. 

The Man in the Station

You are my favourite

You are my favourite dream.

You are my favourite thought.

You should know

Angel,

In the small moments when you begin to doubt yourself,

when in the quiet, the fear of not being enough creeps in,

when you are fearful of the grey and the creases and the years that have changed you,

in the times that you cannot sleep wondering if you are enough,

know this:

You are strong and have proven to yourself and the world of your strength.

You carry with you love enough to lift the world.

You have weathered the arrows and barbs of cruel words, and you are still standing tall.

You have a strength that lives in your spirit and in your limbs.

You are stronger than you know.

You are beautiful beyond measure.

You have a beauty that does not live in just your skin or your hair.

You have a beauty that cares not for the colour of your eyes nor the clothes you choose.

You have a beauty that is all of you and cannot be dimmed.

You are more beautiful than you know.

You are more than enough. You are more than you know.

Just me.

I Still Look for You

To The Lady on the Train,

Do you know that I still look for you?

Even in the most impossible of places, my eye looks to catch a glimpse of you in the distance. Perhaps a tumble of curls and the swing of your arm or a turning of your face toward me? There are times I see someone who might strike some remote resemblance to you, in a certain light, from a particular angle, or if you squint and imagine...

But no, you are not in these impossible places. You are not at my local grocery store. You are not at the park near me. You are not waiting to walk with me. You are not in the station and you are not on the train.

I look for you but you are not here and so I look for you in others. I search for you in every person. I search for you in strangers.

No one else draws the universe with the freckles on their skin.

No one else changes the angle of light so it brightens a room.

No one else says my name so that it sounds like the beating of my heart.

No one else has eyes that shine, are as deep, and change like the sea.

No one else changes gravity, making everything light.

No on else is you. No one is even close.

I still look for you. I will always look for you.

The Man in the Station