The ghost comes to haunt me, to haunt me again
floating in from the matrix through an ethernet line
the ghost who cried stalker is now she who stalks
thinking herself unknown when through my house she walks

every haunting my ghost leaves behind her a trace
every visit recorded - the time, date, and place
and I know when she haunts me, I always have known
every haunting I see as I ghost-watch alone

And I, though now haunted, don't particularly mind
I'm just one who wonders, not one who is blind
Is it that she still loves me, or that she just cares,
curiosity or boredom, thinking me unawares?

I watch her float on in and check up on me
Not a thing I can do but just watch what I see
can't reach out to a ghost - just a wisp in the air
not much to do when the ghost won't let you care

once a warm, living, person was this she-ghost to me
now a cold line of text all she lets herself be
not loving, not loved, now not even a friend
what a way for a haunting to come to an end

I used to watch closely as the ghost haunted me
wondering just what it is that she wanted to see
why the ghost kept on coming was a mystery queer
ever mute but still haunting my little spot here

now I bat not an eye when the ghost comes to haunt
and I've given up guessing what it is that she wants
so I go about life and I sip my green tea
not a second thought when my ghost comes to haunt me