the ghosts were real, and we heard them all the time

from underneath the floorboards

and whispering from our pillows late at night

brilliant discoveries become deep dark secrets in childhood

when everyone around you is a giant made of glass

fragile, lonely, haunted things

we became the best of friends because of these

so in some twisted mysterious way I am eternally grateful.

time carries us on and pushes us apart

I think you go to school in South Carolina now.

Anyway, I still think about you and that summer and those ghosts sometimes

and this is me saying that I’m glad we never said goodbye

you lived next door that summer,

and in some twisted mysterious way you always will.