A Date With Demons
You sip your coffee.
The smell of cinnamon toast fills the air,
almost palpable, so thick you can taste the sugar.
Across from you is a friend,
a man of grace from your darkest days,
whose kindness once delivered you from the mire
of your own darkness,
a living reminder of what true grace looks like,
not a thing of storefronts and marketing,
more gritty and real and hard.
It has been years since you met,
face to face, like this,
and you worried.
Would seeing him loosen every demon
carefully pushed back into their closets?
Would the memories overcome the moment?
Your healing, put to the test.
You need not have worried.
The decade healed you well.
You are not impervious, true, but you are a new man,
and you were able to simply be and talk
and walk on the beach in winter
without ghosts tagging along.
And now he is gone. For now.
We will not allow another decade to pass.
No, we will meet again and again.
We will sip coffee, eat bagels, share souls
while the demons watch, salivating and mourning
the two souls they almost had,
About this poem
Good friends, the best friends, bring out your best.