Strange skin
laying cold
though whispers burn up
And though your scent tempts sweet
air festers as we rot.
There is sign of life
Pattering against
The stale wood of this coffin.
Our moon glows through these cracks
A soft glimmer of the mourning to come
And these crisp cloths worn before
Lie that I’ll depart with you.
And I tell your corpse that I love you
I love you. I do.
And you have left me alone again.
She is half decayed and beautiful.
You told me first, whispered
Withered arms wound around me
Passing into the night.