If my heart were a train

I wouldn't call her Thomas

Thomas was plucky and steady

And she feels like the shakiest thing about me.

If I'm lucky

She's on the tracks this week

If I'm not

I'm lucky if she remembers 

She still has to make it into the station.

She runs on tracks

With lush country on one side

And stars made of lighted windows on the other

And she can't decide where to stay

So she keeps chugging

Not plucky like Thomas 

Though I wish

There's a stench of fear in her smoke

That I can't seem to get rid of. 

It's in every red seat 

Caked on every wheel and window

And instead of slowing her down

It causes movement like oil

She's moving so fast that she slides down the track

Past the tall and green and gray trees

Pale and neon stars

Green and rainbow animals

She's moving so fast 

I'm pretty sure she's going to hit a wall some time

That wall will be made of bricks

Made of concrete laced with decisions

She isn't ready to make

Again is afraid she'll never be ready to make

She knows this

But there's so much fucking oil everywhere

It's hard to take a wheel back

Turn your head from the smoke

And wash the grime from the seats and windows

So you can let the light shine in.

But it's hard to remember that's it's only a jacket

Not your entire skin

So I hope not-Thomas will stop 

Give the tracks a break

And her wheels a rest

Because I can not keep going like this forever.