Ghost-of-a-Chance-13

We have a new cat now. She streaks through the house and sleeps in your old beds, watching me from the rocking chair as I habitually seek you out. She's sweeter than you-- she sits in my lap and plays with my fingers, doll-faced and docile against your angular independence. I still search for you amongst the cracks in my heart as you slip like sand deeper into the dark recesses of my faulty memories. I am always afraid that my tears will ruin the circuitry through which I access our sunny afternoons and quiet nights, and you will slip beyond me. I did not hope for an afterlife until I ran my fingers through your cold fur, and understood