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Old Ghosts

Random. Shackled.

We sat in the diner
Talking about the food
And the weather
It was the most natural conversation.

He sat there
Watched me demolish my share with the apetite
And it was peaceful
Well, for a few sweet seconds

Then I looked up
And he was gone
Banished
By reality, I figured
The sudden emptiness
I looked down at my plate
With sad certainty
It was a newspaper
Dated: Infinity
Headlined: Personal Hell
I sat up
And looked up..

Where he had sat
Stood her, annoyed, clearly
“Your pills, sir.” She said
And it sounded like a familiar song
And my heart throbbed
And I felt the robe
With my hands
And saw the tag
In my hands
I looked around me
And I was not in a diner
We were not

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Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:

Benie Langat

Benson Langat is a poet, fiction writer, and freelancer. A dreamer, he realizes a world of possibilities through stories and explores life in poetry. Benie is a dad and lives in Nairobi, Kenya.

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