We Spent Most of Our Life In An Abandoned Train Car

We spent most of our life in an abandoned train car fashioned a bed out of cloth and some seats there was no room for both so I took the floor beside you but there were bugs in our pillow and beneath the sheets We lived off old paychecks I lived off your love still I insist that I owe loans for both I gave mine so sparingly I thought I would rust but steel does not oxidize nearly as much You'd sit with your glasses on lost in your work while I played the radio and painted a while I painted you young and I hung it up after you said: "turn down the radio, my head's a disaster" This place feels constricting the walls are so cold and for the first time I feel all my years old you still sleep on hard seats, they are filled up with ghosts and I'm still sleeping under you, we try hard not to touch Theres a churning of metal, or maybe that's me but at least the sound drowns out the silence that seems to have moved as a tenant though I can't tell you when but its much better company than I've ever been I'd open my mouth and try to ask you these things but all that occurs is the rustling of sheets as I breathe out a sigh since I don't have to speak your ears are a desert, my lips the red sea One night you awoke me from two fitful rests you must have moved in sleep, your breath mingled with mine when you lifted your eyes I saw they were bright blue it was a color well suited for you