Planes are taking off and leaving,
nothing here is stagnant.
Alone between the noisy walls,
the announcements never end.
Silence comes in velvet boxes.

I don’t want white quiet
or grey voices overhead
I want the crimson of your soothing lines
but I’m sure you packed it with you.

Maybe time will whizz by without notice.
A couple of calendar pages
and you’ll be on the arrivals board.
I’ll have your flight number tattooed
on the palms of my eager hands.

That sounds nothing like how truth sounds.
My optimism is dripping off my cheeks.


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