Someday,
I'd like to,
Write,
A poem where,
Every,
Line is written,
By,
A different poet.

I can't believe I'm missing you,
After all the things you put me through.
Sleepless nights making sure you were alright,
Dreary days ensuring you were eating okay.
You never wanted to be seen in public,
So we never went on dates.
All the ways you would curse yourself,
All the compliments you gave me, that felt like insults in disguise.
When I got in trouble for the times I'd meet up with you 9th period,
And I had to talk to that counselor that I didn't like.
The way his office was so blank,
It made me uncomfortable.
The days I had to walk by the street,
Because you liked drifting too close the speeding cars.
After all the things you put me through,
I can't believe I'm missing you.

I miss the days in summer,
When cold rains didn't drown out the sun.
And cold winds,
Wouldn't make my dry skin burn.

Aeipathy consumes me
in a state of reverie
tender is your flesh, preserved and cold
pining for me to partake in my needs.
finding pleasure in what's left of you
your spirit groans my name
even in death thy shall be whole again.
after, while you're in pieces
soon you will be one with me
reside inside my body
not one bit gone to waste
embrace my favorite parts by giving you a taste.
who am i not to indulge?
in such a wonderous thing
necro-cannibalism with my love
the most endearing sin
i need.