We were walking down State Street
late at night
after the train had been delayed,
after staring down the empty tunnel,
trying to speak at times,
but we couldn’t, really,
so we just listened to the wind funnel through.
Eventually, the train shook us over the tracks
for three stops north
as we tried to hold ourselves solid.
So, on State Street,
we walked hand in hand
as though to say the words we didn’t have,
and then finally, one of us,
or both of us
said that we’re both broken, still,
from before the time we met.
I told you I couldn’t
take care of you.
Something about the rain today
makes the way I let go of your hand
hurt more than it did yesterday.
I can feel your fingers falling away from me,
I can’t keep holding them