journey to work

Sometimes on my way to work
I have flashbacks
The echo of what you do to me
It echoes
Crackles through my nerve endings
Causes me to become hard
My blood become violent within my veins
Rushes to my centre
Pushes against my clothes
Roars silently on this crowded train
Deafeans me
My body taut
Tense with the memories of soft motion
Stiff from recollections of fluid waistline
My hands form shapes
Hollow
Mould to your now invisible contours
I wonder if these commuters know
Understand this vicious storm you have evoked
This raging hurricane of remembered pleasures
I sit on this train and travel to my destination
Yet long to have your ride me like the 8:35 from Victoria
Be my passenger
Travel first class
until arrive at the station of your release
sometimes on the way to work
I have flashbacks

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