isn't it ghastly?
how your ghosts speAk to me?
spilling your secrets
and i pick them up
like dandelions in a field
and don't you find it ghostly?
how i'm the only one
who hears your reminiscent cries
for a love long lost
in the middle of the night?
because, really, my beloved,
what are your tears worth when there's no one left to hold them?
where do your words go when the moonlight isn't there to take them?
but i'm there and i find them
i keep your echoes
and lonely melodies
hidden away behind paintings
and underneath desk drawers
i promise no one but me will see them again
not even your wandering ghosts