Old Movies

Fleeting images,

black and white

and shades of grey.

An accompanying voice,

not mine,

but familiar

as my own.


I reach my hand out,

pleading without words

that I might touch

my memories,

then I pull it back again


as what I make contact with

is something cold,


and hungry.


It seems

that the past eats

those who linger

and the future devours us all.


Don’t look back.

Not back towards love,

or back towards youth;

there is nothing there,

but the mouths

of hungry ghosts.


They wait for us to join them,

but that will not be today.


HG – 2019

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