Ghosts repeat history

The history of these walls that confined secrets

Each step they took remain embedded in me

Reminding me of their history

Their laughter fills my ears when I walk through this house

The jokes they made, to the songs they danced to

The smells of their cookings fill the distant air

Remind me of their joy

Sometimes I see what they saw

On bright days, in the garden. 

Discussing their future; whilst holding hands.

On rainy days, on the couch.

Holding each other; as if they would never stand again.

On dark nights, at the park

Looking at the stars, breathing in the cold air.

Remind me of their peace

Sometimes I feel what they felt

Anger and misunderstandings, lead to hurt

Crying led, to being understood

The hope they felt looking into each others eyes

Into the future.

Remind me of their strength

Every corner of this house repeats for a moment;

What they saw, What they did, what they felt.

Only two ghosts live in this house.

But yet they duplicate with every corner I turn.

Thousands of pieces of history.

Yet one shines the brightest.

Always, I see their first interaction.

The first steps, to the first kiss.

A routine they would uphold until they couldn’t.

The greetings they would speak before they disappeared.

The goodbye’s they would share, before they separated.

The distant sound of a thundering engine fills my ears.

As if on instinct, I get up and sit on that stool.

Looking out to an empty spot, with no sound reaching my ears.

And no rumble of an engine shaking my spine.

I look on the patio, and see a ghost.

One waving to the end of the street;

To a truck waving as if they would see each other again.

Instead of this one disappearing;

It repeats.

A distant sound of the same number 4 times

The front door opening; the first steps in.

A greeting. A jump into a hug.

A smile. The talk before they disappeared upstairs.

To argue, to talk about the future.

To leave.

It repeats.

A distant sound of the wind.

Shoving scenes of the ghosts on rainy, windy and sunny days fill my head.

But it goes quiet; and the light dims.

I see a ghost, sitting in a car. 

Walking inside; no greeting.

A hug from another ghost, while she sobs her heart out.

While she packs her boxes; to when she goes to sleep.

To never repeat.

Once in a while that ghost comes back;

She gets overwhelmed by the others.

She walks alone.

Setting her new history; while having to relive the others.

To repeat

The pain, the hurt.

Love and the foolish hope.

She goes to places in history

The smell of food, the night sky.

The cars racing by;

Without someone by her side.

She eats alone.

This town for her; doesn’t feel like home.

Everywhere she walks, there is history.

The sights she sees, reminds her of those restless nights.

This house now stands empty.

With me at the front door.

Hoping to be ready to see the ghosts inside once more.

Whilst enduring the memories of each step.

First I have to go to the front door.

I turn to look at the end of the street.

Waiting for a distant rumble or a wave goodbye.

Never to repeat.

Never to repeat.