I am haunted by your voice whenever
I visit certain places in
the city.
I can still hear you whispering
in my ear when I
sit on the
swing third
from the right.

I kick off into the air,
pumping my legs so my momentum
will carry me higher.
I let go at the top of my arc,
and for a moment, I am
above gravity.
For a moment, I can still hear
you telling me
this is what freedom feels like.

But then I hit the ground,
reminding me that you are still dead
and I am still living.

I wish it were me.