I do believe in ghosts
for her ghost is mine-
a burden I willingly endure,
haunting my reality
holding me to a promise
my youth made carelessly-
a vow
that bound her smile to mine
and now…

The flicker of her crooked grin unfurling
dances across my consciousness- teasing
My inner-reflection aches
for the missing piece
of a broken
mirror 

While the shimmer of that absent sliver
is invisible to me,
I swear- I can feel it lodged in my
feet

Try as I might, I can’t find enough pieces
to put her back together…
but she’s not my whole
and I didn’t pull her a part.

But
I’m too afraid to see
what my reflection would be
without my confidence in a friendship that used to be
                            more than a shadow…
for what confidence is an empty shape trailing after me-
craving for a being that isn’t ready to
“be”
just yet
?

So, yes
As I gaze between the
cracks
in my old mirror,
searching for what
“Used to be,”
I accept my only hope: To believe.

I believe in the phantom girl I’ll always cherish-
hiding in a sliver of her own shattered smile-
waiting
to put herself back together
and be one with reality
for a while…