Your scent lingers on the bed where you left a lie.

The words sting at my eyes.

Standing over the railway. The track of the life on which my train travels, watching each swing, sledgehammering and building a foundation only to realize we are not on the same track you built a switch line to somewhere else and i disnt look far enough ahead to see the cliff that looms ahead. Piercing increases with each bang on the spikes meant to secure us in heavy duty steel fashion, in my heart and in my head.

This was not the plan I signed off on. This is not the life where I thought I should be by now.

Evidence enough, to abandon this train and start to forge ahead with a new track.

There is no Dudley Do Right coming to save the day. What appears to be ropes securing me to this track are dreamed up of my own making and I have to choose to be the one who cuts.