The Midnight Train

The winter air interrupted the comfort and warmth of the subway train.  It was late, after midnight, when the passengers scurried from the smell of must, mixed perfumes and colognes.  A man tugged his pea coat tighter and moved away from traffic in quick motion.
It was days like this where he missed her touch the most.  In need badly just to see her face again, the thought of her almost too much to bare.  There was nothing more he wanted than heat.  To be near the warmth her soul had to offer.  He remember, for more than a moment, what it felt like to be whole, but shrugged the feeling of admiration away just as quick as the cold air swept past.  And that's what disturbed his mood- the past, the fact that it was all within reach at some point. 


And so he chose to return.. had found his black shiny shoes at the base of her wooden front door.  Ecstasy he didn't budge, a hand placed on the door knob.. he wanted to turn but decided against it.  Upstairs a room was lit.  A room he was familiar with.  He wondered if the walls still echoed with as much passion as they long ago created.  If ever there was a chance it was now...before his mind could think of any more reasons to turn away.  The time was now, his feelings immediate, and his fluttered heartbeats unsteady in anticipation.  


He knocked and held his breath before anymore rings could be created in the winter sky.  The night was perfect for love.  Perfect to touch.  He imagined the smell of a fresh fire burning, the taste of strawberries and vanilla from her lip gloss. And then he realized his knock had gone unanswered. 


He took a final look back at that light in the room and refused to move.  A slight sigh escaped from his lips in between thoughts of desperation and the unknown.  He knocked again, and this time the door opened.. 


No words were necessary.  Her face as lit as a Christmas tree, her eyes fresh with tears as if she remembered.  Before she could speak, before he could apologize an embrace occurred and nothing felt more real and honest.  He went in to kiss her, he wanted so bad to create and express his resentment for walking away so easily that day, with no explanation. 


The thought interrupted, urgency forgotten, the light from upstairs turned down to a romantic level.  That room..but who?  Music played softly... love music.  He wanted love, the music on Que, the moment perfect.  He looked past her shoulder, she unfazed, followed his stare. A reflection.  A voice he'd replay over and over like his regret had spoken.  "Baby.. are you coming back to bed?"  Her beautiful face returned  to face her past lover.  She spoke "It was nice of you to stop bye."  No more words were spoken, chance fading in the back light.  He wanted those unspoken words from moments before to mean something, anything.  


But just as he parted his lips to confess his love, she backed away.  Still sexy and mesmerizing, still with leftover tears that had dropped moments before the interruption.  The door closed.  The passion dead.  The wind screaming the words his heart didn't dare let out.  His moment gone.  His home occupied.  Love, unaware it had passed.  Unreachable, unforgiving.  


By, 
Michelle D. Jones