Memoirs Of A Ghost

The knife I picked up was another heirloom.

Your grandma gave it to you, I think.

I remember her funeral quite well.

You asked me to attend.

Begged.

Pleaded.

It was as boring as hell, mind you.

I knew her as much as I knew you.

The sofa,

Obviously in the clearance area in IKEA.
We spent weeks arguing over which cover to get.

In the end you won.

That hideous maroon with flowers.

Out of place in the white living room.

The shoes, that I recommended, You ignored.

You had on that strange NIKE pair

Bright green, and with the white stripes.

You liked that band.

You liked most things.

You liked the way the shower always got cold,

So you had to keep turning the thermo up.

You liked the way that one of the lights in our bedroom

Failed to turn off, and you called the obnoxious light "romantic".

You liked the way that the trees blossomed

And you liked the photos we took near them.

You liked the way children were so simple

And that you could tell them anything

And they would believe you.

A bit like me, really.

You liked the way I ignored all the warning signs.

And you liked the way that I always loved you.

I 

was something you didn't like.

And although I am not really dead

My heart is buried and yet it is still true

And as in this empty house I tread

I realise I was always dead

To you