GHOST

ghosts
follow me,
yours especially,
dogging my steps,
waiting, i think,
for me to bite the dust
and i keep meaning
to ask if it knows
something i don't
or maybe it just
misses me

there were
plenty of nights
i would have
welcomed it
to my bed --
even a ghost
is better
than nothing
but i couldn't
conjure a
damned soul,
not even yours

now it's right here
staring at me
and death hasn't
changed a thing --
in my mind
you're still lovely
beyond words --
and if you're
waiting on the
other side maybe
dying isn't such
a bad thing