Ghost Limb and Other Short-Comings

In the wake of Ghost-Limb heart ache, I decide to write,
Re-write and right all my wrongs.

All eyeliner and fault, I am.
Cigarette smoking skinny jeans and trendy heart strings.
Ghost Limb, I neglected you.

Late last night I thought I heard you whistling in the dark for our dog.
You've been gone so long, and only just yesterday,
but I can still feel you hanging limp at my side.

Was it I who let you atrophy and rot-
Or were you a victim of poor circulation,
cutting yourself off before I did..?

Fault is so petty in the face of amputation.

Mutilated little heart asked me,
"Am I broken?".
Yes, little heart, you are.
Talk about a Revelation.

If I coulda, shoulda, woulda, done it different
would it have made a difference-
Or would you still be gone, Ghost Limb?

I keep seeing you out there on the streets of Manhattan-
Just an arm in lumberjack plaid shirt-sleeves
floating through the crowd,
like maybe it doesn't know it's been removed..

Postmortem amnesia;
it's a blessing not to remember that you died.
I wish I could forget.