the scene where they part [once more] in a reflection

wild in your skin you lay next to me
and I wonder where do you go in the middle of the
night, where do you wander? Who do you look for who
do you seek? I stopped looking for my ghosts right in time with
each and every question you wanted to ask, but never did
reach for you I did, but long after you stood and wandered
into the night, and past the morning light. Smart me would have
not given a second thought to following in your footsteps, but do
ghosts do that? How do they tread?