You were always bad about leaving your stuff
But this last time really was the worst.
Of all the things to leave behind why did you leave your ghost?
You could have left a sock
or a cuff link
or a crumbled bit of paper with a forgotten list.
But no you left him.
And he is not even useful
He doesn't fold towels
Or sweep the floor
Or hold me when I feel alone.
No...he likes to sit in that chair of yours
So that I may catch a glimpse of him out the corner of my eye.
He laughs when I let the kettle boil over
He says my name on the rain.
He is the worst when I am asleep.
He likes to hover there in my dreams,
Trapping me in the twilight
With memories of days that once were
And promises of nights that could have been.
Of all the things to leave behind, why did you leave your ghost?
You could have left a button
Or a shirt with your scent
Or the truth.
But no, you left him.
And he is not even useful.
He doesn't answer the phone
Or my questions
Or tell me why you left?
I thought of sending my ghost to you
A little reminder of what you lost
But there probably isn't room.
I mean, she lives there with you
And wouldn't want things to get cluttered.
I wish you would come back
If for nothing else to take your ghost with you.
You were always bad about leaving your stuff.
