Sometimes a Ghost Is All You've Got

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One hundred and nineteen
More days have passed
Since I was last honest with you
My nickel fell between
The cushions and
I could not help diving for it
Falling for it

Four hundred and fifteen
Is on the door
Where all my sins are tacked to the wall
Oft heard but seldom seen
Apologies, authentic thanks,
And hearts in the mouth

And I don’t know where you go when I am not around
But I know it must be handsome and not really round
Even when your ears seem hot
Sometimes a ghost is all you’ve got

I’d treat you like a queen
If only you would show me something
Royal or wise
The voice on the machine
And taffy-flavored lipgloss
Still haunt me at night

And I don’t care what you say when I’m about to leave
But I would swear that it’s better never to receive
And — I declare! — there’s a beating heart upon my sleeve
I’m nothing that you’re not
Sometimes a ghost is all you’ve got

© 2006 John Brocato