The ghost in the rafters called me beautiful more often than you did
He left red roses on my bed sheets but you constantly outbid
His tired, sunken face to be the object of my love
If he could touch I know his hands would fit my body like a glove
He’s seen the caverns of my heart that you could never understand
You cannot hold a candle to he who knew Chateaubriand
I use the melting wax to seal a scarlet letter with wet ink
To ask him to come with me if he could ever even think
Of being bound to one in life and forevermore in death
Would he feel he couldn’t give me all his love once we were wed
I could never pass through life with you knowing he would marry me
So I will meet him where he waits underneath the ailing tree.