Your ghost

I am a white spirit,
An incandescent mist in your garden,
Below your window
With pale face staring up,
And I wonder how you cannot sense my yearning.

It's an internal energy,
Because I can hear you breathing,
In my head I feel your chest rise and fall-
A dreamless sleep.
I'll draw it in, gorge myself on
Your lung stained CO2.

Gives me the energy
To throw skeletal nut shells
Fallen from the tree in your garden
Up to your window.
They spark, as if lit by kerosine
And finally the curtains part,
And there appears your face
Ghostly pale surrounded by black.

A respectful silence engulfs us,
And the trees are quiet,
A heartbeat reflected in the clarity of the moon.
And then you disappear,
Returning to the coldness of your sleep,
I am nothing more than a sparkling nightmare.

A giggling rupture on your heart,
Cracking open slowly as,
The growing stack of
"I'm so sorry for your loss" cards
Lies down heavy upon you.

I wasn't afraid to die,
To embrace the endless darkness
It's just that I've had to leave you behind.
Afterlife was made for man,
And man is worthy of such comfort.
But my soul wanders alone,
Lost in blind obscurity
Until you come and steal me away
From this metaphoric dystopia.