The train goes westward, and then on and on forever.
There’s promise out there. We can work jobs, have a little apartment. No one will ask questions about why we stand so closely together. Why your arm slips around my shoulders and holds onto my form, gently but firmly.
I don’t think they’ll ever stop looking for us. But if we can get some space between us maybe they’ll stop and think and realize that we’re doing the right thing. That our love is worth the danger.
When the train stops, I’m ready. And I’m still clinging to your hand.