Diner talk

Your cigar smoke
in my ear
is the fondest memory I have.
Who knew that
the good would be nothing
more than a whisper
I can brush away with my hand.
How can I love
what I don’t know?
How can I catch the wind
when it begs to be let go?
Your dirty fingernails
circle the table,
your greying hair clings to you
like a trap to a mouse.
You’ve ruined us,
and you’re before me, a ghost
I won’t let haunt.

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Diner talk

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