5.15-5.21: Letters to Ghosts

I hope this note finds you well.
I am hurting, but breathing, still.
Unlike you I walk to work,
Cringing every step, knowing you won’t.

Every sunrise reminds me of times
That we would lose our shadows to the night.
Every bead of sweat feeds the dreams we dreamed:
To be MJ or Kareem. Too far-fetched to be real.

I hope this note finds you well.

…

I hope my last note found you well.
But, as far as I can tell
You don’t care to write
Or even think of me.

That’s okay.
‘Cause, while you frolicked and played,
I squabbled and scraped,
I worked and got paid,
And saw you beg the whole way. 

I hope my last note found you well.

…

This is my last note that will find you.
I utterly despised you,
I cursed and cast aside you,
Was cheated and was lied to,
But, you stood at my bedside, too.

It had been sixty years since I’d last seen you.
You drove death back just one more day.
Enough to pull my eyes, to see
My best friend at my side, still.

This is my last note that will find you.

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