My Last Will is a Letter; or Grounded

I keep thinking about how I live above it all, now,
Like an airplane on delay-
Circling above the sunken eyes
Of the city he came back for-
Hovering in refusal to land
Because from up here
I leave you widowed
Enough to expect my ghost
Around every sharp corner
In the house I built for you
When the days were something tangible
And the sunlight, much like your hair,
Would drag itself across my bare shoulders
In half-embrace, half disgust
At what I'd done
To see that things would never be
Let out in full birth
Of the light
And I could keep my hand
Pressed tightly over my breast
So you won't see what letter
Bears its mark there.
Maybe you could love me enough
To keep me grounded.