Half past two AM and I lay awake.
I can't help but fear our gravest mistake.
You'll fade into a ghost,
if you don't untangle your mess.
And I can't help,
but feel like I've failed you.

I remember the first ghost,
when he was alive.
His eyes were magic,
And everyone adored him.

But one day he slipped,
and didn't ask for a hand up.
I only watched as he hit the bottom.
Hence, now he's just a shadow
of a beautiful boy.
I have to hold it all
against him.

Once I was sure he was a ghoul
I cried;
I sobbed until I could feel the ocean.
And I'd stay up and write him poetry,
Half past two AM.