If there are ghosts in this place I think they're of me and you
Not of everything we were but of everything we were meant to be
You've always been the girl who's astounded she can't breathe
When she's spent two weeks filling her lungs with water
What a dangerous person to love
But I still remember what it meant for me
To drape my sweatshirt on the back of your desk chair
Light from your tv in the dark shines bright in my mind eye
Even though I've tried so hard to keep it buried under this garden
But how can I expect to be happy picking flowers that make me bleed
And I swear to God if I could face the guillotine to be rid of them I would
But ghosts seem to thrive in the dying fire
*~W.C.