by Gillian Ferguson | Poetry | Spring 2020
I miss my home.
The familiar sound of the trains
Who lulled me to sleep.
The perennial blue eyes of my best friend
Who I almost fell in love with.
It was never that way growing up, of course.
From preschool to graduation,
Dreaming on the corner of 9th and Summer,
Sitting together after school, near the bus stop.
After we came home from college
She fell asleep
After five hours of catching up
She was beautiful
And I wanted to kiss her.
My startling love for her
Expanding beyond friendship
Tumbling into the soft light of her living room
Strung out like a juicy secret
But I already knew
I would never be her type.
Then the sound of a train
Made her lashes flutter open.
And I still miss her.