i'll follow you.

we drag our feet through the snow, wetness dampening our shoes and socks.

the bags under your eyes aren't all that worrying, but then again, i have them as well.

we are walking to the train station, and it will be just around the corner. people meander about around us. they are trying to find a home- their 'somewhere i belong'-type deal.

i don't know about you, but i don't think there's anyplace like that for me.

we're sitting down on this wooden bench and you light a cigarette. someday, i suppose i'll make you stop.

i'm not ready for this. i'm not ready and you're just...leaving.

don't leave.

if i tell you that, you will stay. of this, i am sure. i keep quiet, though, and i can feel the cold air now more than ever.

and you say " this blows. " and i look at you, wondering as to what you are referring. as cigarette smoke creeps from your parted lips, you blow it away and it thins into the air. a grey plume of smoke stacks high atop our heads. the train screeches to a halt. i am wondering what i will feel when i trudge back, stepping into the footsteps i'd made on my way here.

to watch you leave.

maybe - just maybe - you'd let me come with you and we'd talk politics and things of that nature. would we sit on the cushioned seats? would we drink tea or coffee?

if i were brave enough, i'd ask to tag along.

but i'm not.

your ripped-up sneakers kick at the ground and i can still hear you grumbling and there's a scuff mark on the side of your shoe that looks like a heart and i want to tell you about it, but i'm shy.

so i stay quiet.

all the people boarding the train are pushing around us. you haul your one bag over your shoulder; it looks like you're trying to catch my eye, but i can't seem to make myself oblige.

i'm staring at the smoke billowing from the train and then i'm staring at you because you're holding my face still. i notice the shape of your eyes and the bridge of your nose and the cracks in your lips. you ask " is this when i say goodbye? "

i'm holding my breath. i let it out, breathing harshly.

you are kind to me, even while i am crying and sniffling into your favorite jacket. it's warm. you whisper and murmur in my ear; i catch little snippets, like " this is my favorite jacket, you know, " and " i was kidding, you know. " i rub furiously at my wet face, attempting a small grin. you are laughing in that soft, puffing sort of way and i can see your breath coming out in small wisps, curling white in the thin air.

" come with me, please? come on. " you ask. and i really do think your voice is quite nice to listen to, did you know?

so.

i am thinking. at the same time, i'm not. maybe i am "trying" to think, but it seems so impossible.

i nod 'yes', and your lips don't look so pale anymore with you grinning and showing those 100 dollar teeth of yours.

they're not 'million dollar' teeth because they're not perfect.

but it's okay.

it's still cold outside, but the air is just a bit warmer around us.

we board the train together and you ask if i want any belongings back home, but i don't, because i don't need any of it.

none at all.

so you smile and say " everything. that's what i can give you. everything. "

this is easy and i feel as though my body weighs but only nine pounds.

nine, because nine is my lucky number.

i think back on the 'somewhere i belong' idea. and then i think: we don't need to belong anywhere.

we belong together.

or at least, that's all i know.

i look at you. you mouth these two words: " i promise. "

i'm looking out the window where all the trees and flowers and birds and houses blur together and the only colors i can see are the green of the grass and the grey of the sky.

that, and when i look at you, sleeping on my shoulder, i can see this. us. quite a new beginning.

fin.