Ghost Town

My life is filled with ghosts in a dusty

boarded up town. Across my memories,

two by fours block out the tumbleweeds

that drift through, and bounce off the sides

of the wooden planks nailed over the entrances.

Bristly mangled memories of people

are now faceless wandering wisps. Barely there yet somehow ever-present.

Friendships left behind in empty houses.

Rickety gates squeak on rusted hinges

covered in decaying vines that once

bore life in this desolate town.

No words uttered for months to years but they still have a home in my heart.

I sit alone in the plaza, waiting for

these ghosts to return from their otherworldly

adventures in distant towns. Sitting patiently

as no response befalls my ears or eyes.

It may be time to leave this ghost town,

and leave behind the memories filling

each house. I am not the protector of the estates, but I do feel responsible for my availability within the open graveyard of a town.

What will it take for me to leave the faceless wisps behind? Will I become faceless myself? I lack purpose beyond avenging my social life,

dead and tangled in tumbleweeds.