Cords

 She is beautiful, standing under the streetlight, even with her hoodie pulled up.

And Tom, standing there beside me, his breath coiling like smoke in the winter air. Transfixed.

I've waited for this moment for so long. Ever since the accident. All those nights standing beside his unconcious body in the hospital, whispering for him to let go of me, that I want him to live,  to love.

All the days I spent with her, his first crush, the girl who never stopped loving him, even as they drifted appart. The one he never was quite able to forget.

I lean over, lay my pale hand on his shoulder and whisper, "Go to her." 

He shivers at my touch, my icy breath against his skin. And without really understanding why, he stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets and slumps off to be with her.

And I'm alone. I watch her head raise at his approach. She lowers her hood, smiles at his voice, and glances down at her feet, brushing her hair behind her ear in the same movement.

I don't breathe, I dont blink, I don't look away. Not until he takes her hand, the hand I used to hold when I was alive, and cords that bound me to him... his greif, my need to see him happy... relax, and I can finally move on.