Poetry Feature: Until I Drown

Our secrets are stitched into a cushion

hidden between dark-red thread

the smooth synth of your voice an earworm in my head

moons waxing and wailing

the streetlight shadows are my friends

outstretching their bony arms to greet me

the deep bass of the train rumbling throughout the carriage

lurching me this way and that

rickety wheels against the tracks

nostalgia’s melancholic rhythm hitting me in waves

crashing against the grainy sands of memory

quiet. percussive murmurs fill the empty space

where you were meant to be

the sickness festers in my lungs and clings to the heart

and i exhale,

spitting a little

praying everyone on the train suffers my fate

the cymbals clutter and crash around us

a sickly-sweet cacophonythe music will, someday, rise to a crescendo

and you’ll fall back in my arms