Free to Write

While waiting at the station for your train to come in, waiting with other grown-up people in arctic overcoats, waiting for the life I had been wanting to live, waiting for your cheery hello I knew you couldn’t anymore give, I smothered my dreams in the intricate latticework of moments, of eternal patience and huddled bodies.

Tired, I rubbed my eyes, wishing for a warm cup of coffee; but, instead of the coffee, your train arrived, and you couldn’t see me. I tried to bump into you, but that didn’t work either. Someone had spirited me away; someone had eradicated my will. Someone had turned me into this ghost you couldn’t recognize.