The station

For necessity and nostalgia, I still walk this station.
Through that sloping ageing tunnel up to the main station concourse, I remember when I came here on that August afternoon, timed precisely to meet your arrival. I thought I was on the verge of winning you then, but things didn't pan out that way.
I remember the subsequent times I waited for you here, in that dying struggle that maybe you might just reconsider things and come away with me. This place was an embodiment of that frail flicker of hope.
But like the underwhelming journeys that begin here, the flames of passion were never near to being lit.
As I walk through this station that connects this suburb to the centre of the city, I find it hard to ever believe there is anything positive for me here anymore.