Meant To Be

I walk these streets
That we once shared
Through neon’s glow
Window shop curiosities
Remind me
What it is
I’m looking for
As others pass by
To become the ghosts
They were meant to be
The beggars and thieves
With outstretched hands
But that wasn’t you
Or me
We were different then
Or so, I believed
I still walk these streets
The ghosts rush by
Going somewhere, nowhere
While I stand in between
What’s meant to be
Waiting for a glimpse
A touch
Of the thing
We used to be

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  1. This might be a personal question but, do you ever doubt yourself? Do you ever write something that is good but not better, as you want to expect of yourself.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Another stunner, River, oozing a sense of loneliness and longing in the anonymity of chaotic crowds. I love the allusion to ghosts, I often think that of people rushing by that you’ll never see again, wondering who these shades are and where they’re dashing off to. Wonderful imagery, and a poignant portrait of a lost love.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Okeeeey… where did I leave those razors, I can’t find them. Man, it’s like I watched some artistic black and white French movie about the tragedy. Very vivid and in a gothic way, beautiful. Loved it. 😀

    Liked by 3 people

  4. River you out did yourself on this piece, it is absolutely breathtaking
    You paint such vivid imagery. Love hurt, you made the memories dance and confirm. It was not a mistake.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. “Window shop curiosities/Remind me/What it is/I’m looking for”… takes me to my interest in observing people and how they interact as I judge their level of true love, lol. I could people watch all day. I felt the ending especially, as usual.

    Liked by 3 people

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