Train Wreck

I've grown accustomed
to nothing but a smile
when it comes to this heart
of mine.

Broken fingers write
against bruised feelings
fighting to express what
society can't comprehend.

Ill never let the memory go
of you and the innocent feeling
of flying, just the sunshine
and bruised kneecaps.

Will this ache ever end
the desire to see your hair
dance with the wind
while you smile back at me.

The emptiness hits the bottom of my soul
like a runaway train on a drunken
Saturday-
and yet I still remember
you helped me tie my shoes
before crossing.