Yesterday I came home
To meet your ghost in my living room.
Flipping through my books
And sipping my oola.
Odd. Because you drink coffee.
And because I had only just left you
At the Marseille train station.
The end of a long day in wounded silence.
And were as your expression
Has been vengeful,
As you kindly packed my luggage
Into a taxi we refused to share.
Your ghost didn't seem to hold a grudge.
It simply took my shoulders
In his tender sun-kissed hands and said
Honey, you look half-dead!
Come out with me.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN