you told me a story, of a toy train
given by your grandfather, sitting on a shelf
tucked in the living room, dusty.
you told me a story, of how you would fix it
as a child, polishing wheels,
wiping the old metal, shiny.
you told me you love me, with all your heart,
tender and soft kisses, believable,
yet you wouldn't fix my heart,
like your toy train.
