The mortuary of the dead was his playground of
Pleasure for he was the keeper of those
That had recently felt the touch.
He thought he was the
Adam
And they were the
Eves of death,
So still and pretty, never a hateful
Word only the silence of death.
Their features
Sombre
&
Frozen
All were his to tend to, making them
As what ever motion was needed
Silent laughter,
a wax tear
Melted, fixed to cold flesh
With eyes half closed,
They always listened with deaf ears.
He Never would taint them,
Always cleans after their
Quiet,
Silent,
Acceptance
Of him touching cold flesh,
He was the keeper of the dead,  silence
Was their gift to him, peace within a room
Of death. They were in the mortuary of the
Dead, and he was there guardian of
Sordid pleasures that only the dead could silently give.