Ghost

by Emilie Autumn.

Did you know sometimes it frightens me when you say my name and I can’t see you. Will you ever learn to materialize before you speak, impetuous boy, if that’s what you really are. How many centuries since you’ve climbed a balcony or do you do this every night with someone else? You tell me that you never leave and I am almost afraid to believe it. Why is it me you’ve chosen to follow? Did you like the way I look when I am sleeping? Was my hair more fun to tangle? Are my dreams more entertaining?

Do you laugh when I’m complaining that I’m all alone? Where were you when I searched the sea for a friend to talk to me? In a year where will you be? Is it enough for you to steal into my mind, filling up my page with music written in my hand. You know I’ll take the credit for I must have made you come to me somehow, but please try to close the curtains when you leave at night or I’ll have to find someone to stay and warm me.

Will you always attend my midnight tea parties, as long as I set your place? If one day your sugar sits untouched will you have gone forever? Would you miss me in a thousand years when you will dry another’s tears? But you say you’ll never leave me and I wonder if you’ll have the decency to pass through my wall to the next room while I dress for dinner. But when I’m stuck in conversation with stuffed shirts whose adoration hurts my ears, where are you then? Can’t you cut in when I dance with other men?

It’s too late not to interfere with my life, you’ve already made me a most unsuitable wife for any man who wants to be the first his bride has slept with. And you can’t just fly into people’s bedrooms then expect them to calmly wave goodbye. You’ve changed the course of history and didn’t even try.

Where are you now? Standing behind me taking my hand. Come and remind me who you are. Have you traveled far? Are you made of stardust too? Are the angels after you? Tell me what I am to do. But until then I’ll save your side of the bed. Just come and sing me to sleep.