I swear I saw your reflection in the back door window when I went to take the trash out.

The back of your head like we’d passed each other in the hall just a second ago.

You wore the blue Kurt Cobain sweater I thrifted for you that time.

So grateful for the sight of you, I didn’t turn around to see if you were real and instead stared at the glass, conjuring.

You. Eyes crinkling at the corner

You. Twisted grin

You. Excited again.

You. Singing a made up song to the other ghosts in the house.

You. Not mad anymore.

You. Sober.

You. Hated that sweater.

You. Gone before you ever left.

You. Silent like rocks.

Years later my heart still betrays me when I see you in a window or a dream.

Every time I hope to catch your happiness and remember how it felt for a time.

Before it didn’t anymore. Then I remember how it felt at the end.

Blink and you’re gone, back to the place where songs live after the radio is turned off.