文章基本信息

V. A Pact

St John, David

It is not so hard to love a ghost

As some friends might try to tell you;

People do it for years, I hear, with almost

Nobody noticing. One night, I held a silver gun

To my head, just to imagine myself as the ghost-to-be,

Nobody special, just myself only-you know, so pale

thin you could see right through me, just

Like a thistle. Figure it out: I'm here, but I'm not.

That's what happened to me the evening you said

You'd be happier if I were dead. So, I said

I'm sorry; rm here. I'm not. Sooner or later, a man simply

Burns the toast. It's not so hard to leave you

As it seems, old ghost.