just because you're dead
doesn't mean we aren't dating anymore
does it?
i am haunted
hearing you read a poem in my head,
dead
so we must have chemistry
or am i interminably obsessed
like a ghostly house
while your poems
have there way with me
rumbling down my phantom thigh
breathing
on the layaway plan 
ghastly pumpkin in the oven
languishing gracefully

your generosity in death
a carnival ride of fascination
like a broken bird
to tormented to hold
your preference  
hors d’oeuvres of rat poison
and verse
for the thin air road

a smudged face poets last word
in crumbs of burnt onions and charred meat 

your so pretty in penny loafers
bare legs dangling
In this homeless corridor sunken in your blackened
idol of release
and that stupid stare
your weight no longer measured in grief
i was born to late
to die with you
to save a pretty nymph in a downward spiral
precious fertilizer of poetry fields
i'm fixated on your suicide pose
but you're too busy being dead
to give a ****,
my sweet eyed snob of smiling hooks
i'm obsessively obsessive
for what could never be
and is
am i not your fan,
your creep?
if i pulled you from the oven
and rattled life
no doubt, you'd be all **** and vinegar 
i'd be your despicable hero
a vampire
like a straight jacket of love you hate

your dead now poet of twilight
and i'm left here reading your poems
telling you softly
they are the best poems ever
and making believe
you love me