You have always looked and sounded like you would recover sooner than me. Perhaps you have. Perhaps you have.. or you'll convince others - and then yourself - that you have.

I used to be sure, as I woke with that familiar pain piercing through my chest, that something had taken place. When it hurt deeper, and it lasted throughout the day, I knew something had happened with you. What and who is it now?

But you said, again and again, "Stay still."

So, even as I bled this morning, I remained still. I knew. I sensed. But I stayed still and bled in silence, because you asked.

Perhaps someday I'll learned to ignore the pain's message.
Perhaps I'll someday stop hearing and seeing your ghost.

Or I'll bleed to my death.