Stations

Should I have forgotten
the way your eyes
looked away
to stare
along the route
that would take you from me?

Eyes which shone
like polished metal
in a face framed
by the rust
of your hair.

The rails,
like arrows,
pointing the way
to your new future.
Like the lines
of our lives,
never to meet again.

You were always on the move
somewhere,
but you never really arrived.
There was always one more station
and still
one more journey.

What else could I do
but learn
how to turn
and walk away?

Taking the steps
that lead down
through artificial caverns,
while trains thundered overhead.
A demented roaring from those
that know no final destination.