There's a ghost of you in this house, in this mind.
A ghost of your smile in the kitchen,
Aromatic and bare,
Your laughter a haunting echo.
A ghost of your body on this bed,
Unmade and cold,
The scent of your skin tumble dried.
A ghost of your lips on my skin,
Split and silken,
Kept secret by the Tricyclic*.
A ghost of your fingerprints on my heart,
Precious and rare,
Fading away with my fragmenting breath.
There is a ghost of us in this house.
*Tricyclic is one of the three main forms of anti-depressants used in New Zealand.
