I remember the day you killed me.
As my soul drifted into the sky, I saw you
walking away innocently, and stashing
your knife in your pocket.
Nobody has bothered to bury my body yet,
but that's alright - I'm the only one
who can see it there, rotting
in the October sun, among the soccer players
and my old friends chatting after lunch.
Observing is quite easy now; people leave me alone
because I'm just a ghost.
I guess I could bother you, but you're fine.
You wouldn't even care about a faded memory
Besides, how could I torment
someone like you?
Even as you dulled those eyes
that you once falsely called beautiful,
and punctured that heart
that has always throbbed for you,
I knew you meant no harm -
you were blind.
Every now and then, as I float by you in the wind,
I think you might see me
with your fiery green eyes,
but they soon dart away
to that other blonde girl you like,
the one talking to your friend.
You'll see it someday, I'm sure.
Maybe you'll be playing the piano,
or speaking French with her,
or singing in choir without me.
You'll speak, only to hear
the rustle of leaves outside the window.