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Letter to the Same Ghost (Revised)

I can still see ribbons around my
arm from your fingers,
eternal ornaments like a wedding ring.
You tied them around me while you asked,
with tears streaming down your face,
“Why can't you give me more of you?”

Even when I look at him, I can't forget you.
I melt instead of freezing when he says my
name. His knuckles are gentle across my face.
He only plucks guitar strings with his fingers.
I worship his hands, but have to ask
why yours still can make my stomach wring.

A little voice that should only know ring-
around-the-rosies discovered the words, “You
hurting, Sissy?” My baby sister asked
seeing the pictures of my
fear for you. She placed tiny fingers
on my legs, curls hanging in her face.

I hope that fact is impossible for you to face,
another princess thrown into your ring
of fire. Aren't your fingers
tired from prying us off of you?
You looked into their eyes and my
eyes and spoke. “Do you trust me?” you asked.

When you disappeared, people asked
me when they might see your face
again. While your heart was stopping, my
my heart was racing and I didn't hear the phone ring.
From that moment on, you
were nothing but empty space between my fingers.

Now in sleep, my fingers
reach out and find no answer to the question I ask
everyday: “Where are you?”
You gave no explanation when you turned your face
to the sky and hoped that words of Heaven would ring
true. You said that Earth was all mine.

But every morning still, your fingers reach out from my
chest and you hand me my promise ring.
I never asked for that diamond in place of your face.



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