Ghosts: A Poem
There are ghosts who live among us
Not the living dead
Not the broken souls
Like in Pirates of the Caribbean
Another kind
They pop in existence
A slight surprise
But not really because
You know that it is perfectly normal for them to be there
It's not the place they are in
Or their origin
like a Dream, a memory, or a wish
That makes them a ghost
But the feeling they give you
Maybe you feel something when your eyes first lay on them
That could be it too
But the feeling I most want to discus is the feeling
When they leave
One night I was in a restaurant in New York City.
There was a boy
A teenager
Sitting diagonal from me
At a round table with two older gentlemen
I say he is a teenager because he was dressed simply
And had rambunctious curly brown hair
I guess you could say he was "cute"
*laughs*
I glanced over at him more that a couple times that evening
I left for the washroom
On my way back to my table I passed his table
He looked up and his eyes skittered over me
I was so flushed to hold his gaze for more than a few milliseconds
I didn't even smile properly
I sat and continued eating and talking with my family
I looked to the left
Once more
And he was gone
Just like that
Poof
I had begun to fantasize a meeting and conversation sometime during that meeting
But he had left and it was New York City
It probably wasn't meant to be
But he had left something behind for me to collect
A stranger
A girl he looked at once
He left me with a sense of almost abandonment
You could say
And maybe a little bit of sadness
Weird right
What a stranger can do to you
He is ghost
Because his existence to me was paper thin
In and out
Like that
*snaps*
But still here
