She asked me to tell you she’s sorry.

You’re a part of me.
I squint my eye and close one,
cover half the picture of your face,
look in one eye,
then the other,
to see the emotion,
it’s a little scared.
Every time I look in the mirror-
I see you,
but that’s nothing new.
I took some shrooms
when I was eighteen and already saw it,
I just never realized
I’d be cuddling your grand daughter to sleep,
looking at your picture like it’s a target,
while the same clothes you have on
are in my closet
collecting dust.
I wonder
if I put them on and go to our grandmothers house and sit in the same chair,
I’ll look exactly like you.
A little scared,
A lot wise, mostly,
Humble, and ready
to die
I am tethered to you
even though you’re underground.
And I suspect that’s why I visit
And ask if you could cut the cord now.