Visiting Ghosts

An old letter found me today

I quickly recognize the curly handwriting 

And the heart-dotted I’s 

But no envelope stamp is in sight

And both sender and receiver are matched in names

Little me went on about her favorite artists

And rambled about the no good she and her friends were up to 

Her excitement glimmered through the wrinkles and stains of the paper 

Her handwriting flowed as if the words were dancing to the tune of her passion 




A familiar name appears 

The pen begins to stumble and fall

Her words get weak in their knees 

She asks for your name

She asks if you’re still fighting 

If your lungs still knew breath and 

If your skin still knew sunlight 

What am I supposed to tell her?

That your demons lost the battle and

We sing melodies till dawn? 

That your shackles broke loose and 

We laugh till it hurts? 

That the blade has retired taunting you

And the noose no longer shrieks your name?


Because, they have.

I know they have.

I know blood still runs through your veins 

And I know your stomach still turns 

Younger me begs to hear that you’re still alive 

But we don’t talk anymore,

So you might as well not be.

What are you looking for?