Combustion

Every time I hear that train
I think of loves past.
It had gone away,
but the sad romance
still stays.
Echoing in the distance
scheduling a return
wait alone at the station.
I place my head on the track
as the vibration signals
a pending arrival.
I smelled the air
nervously welcomed combustion,
and worried what else the
heavy freights of temptation
will bring.
Tie me to the tracks.
It's too late to divert
this path
I've already laid down.