Due to the high levels of domestic accident these days,

There’s a chance that I might be a newly formed Ghost,

It doesn’t feel the way you think, though

I am solid, breathable, clumsy like you

I can still exhale, be indelicate,

railing and flailing and moving things round

was never really my scene

I return each night though,

Undress in the dark, set the alarm, lay on the bed,

Try and steal the covers like always

Once I whispered, asked you to come with me 

It’s too late you said, sleep,

Ask me in the morning

I listen properly now, without interrupting

But it seems there’s nothing you want to say

So, in the evenings, we just chill on the sofa

with the wine we once shared,

And never give away the end of the film,

While you doze, I guzzle the popcorn crumbs

I still put the bins out on Wednesday night

Because you always forget

Clink down the moonlit path

Like a good husband

Being dead is no excuse for not recycling

I wonder how long we go on like this,

In a spectral domestic bliss, I hope its forever,

Or at least till you are ready,

To come away with me