Two crooked razorbills fluttered past
The old oak tree on Bell's Grave.

They buzzed and crooned, in perfect pitch
For the necromancer's song.

Not to be outdone by the deathsinger's,
The skies opened up in torrential hymns.

As the Earth drowned in sinful peace,
A young man began to dance his fortune.

Feathered fellows, pouring rain, innocence.
A tune long forgotten in this worn grove.

Yet still, it was good, it was grand.
The honesty of death was pure.

This empty hole in my chest
Is from the pain your brought in my life
Pain I will never be able to put to rest

The smiles we shared
Will never be able to make up for the tears I shed.

Dreams turned to nightmares when you had left
You had the pleasure of breaking my heart  and had no sympathy when I wept

You are a demon none deserving of grace
You had the darkness inside of you to say the things you said to my face

The sweet sweet lies you hissed in my ear
I never knew demons could walk the earth
For I called one my dear

Now I lay here in a puddle of my own tears
Commencing my self destruction to run away from this feeling
I try not alert the neighbors with my screaming

I will never forget your face
You are the one that has brought me back to this place

A place where this pain will consume every inch of my body
Oh how I wish you would be sorry

You had eyes that could enchant a nation
But I saw the darkness in your eyes when you broke my heart with no hesitation

But...

I , with no doubt deserved the cruelty you inflicted in my life
I deserved to feel the hole in my chest
I deserved to have the tears that soak my vest

I am a foul creature not from this place
I am the evil being not deserving grace.

-T

In the nights,
When I'm alone,
There's just this feeling,
I get in my bones.

It always gets in my head
Making me think about things
I know I would regret.

But fear not!

There's a good side to this.
Because you see...
It also makes you feel brave.

But remember this as well.
Braveness could lead to a grave.

"I am dying."

"Its hardly a cold."

"Will you fetch me a thermometer?"

"I will send for one, you Shakespearean."

"I am glad you can make jokes to a dying friend."

"Learn to hold your wine."

"You mean drink? Or what I am doing now?"

"Both."

"Will you still be my friend in the morning?"

"If you are alive."

"Good. I am dying you know?"

"You died a week ago and the week before that."

"It's real this time. You will not be happy in the morning."

"Why is that?"

"You will wake to a foul smell and realize that your mourning will be spent digging a hole."

"Oh, so like most mornings with you."

"You are a real pal. Pass the wine?"

You, the ashen alyssum
homing in on dark bushes
breeding maggots
feeding on flesh.  

You the fetid parasite  
carrion, the rotten stink
a toxin laced tongue
devouring pith.

You, the stench of
malignant blossoms
a venomous creeper, you
had to attract snakes.

You live among the graves
the poison pollinator,
a corpse floret
of foul odour.

You the venin
cloaked in smirk
a shrew, spiked with malice
must be crushed,
must die.

A grave is raised before its time
To testify a cold farewell

Who saw her last teardrop fall
Its slow decent
To the desert sand
As the final nail is set

Who knew of her minds defeat
The battle lost
Her last hope shattered
By the hammer's final fall

Who heard her voice fade
On a silent scream
The endless empty sigh
Of her last and final breath

Who felt her heartbeat stop
Like a drowning drum
The slow pitter-patter
A final two-step march

Who stood witness that last long night?
Who stood by and watched her die?

We dug our own graves
with shiny silver teaspoon
stolen from the marble mansion,

Bloodstreams trickled at
the shrieks of the leaves
and scrutinizing glossy
pairs of almond.

We hammered our own caskets,
Tack tack tacked the night
with pebbles from the pavement
in the backyard and painted it
blue birds on the sides.

We played with the remains
of the past great literary lovers
and no one bid us warning
we would be ******.

The spoon, pebbles, and leaves
moved on its own will.

We cursed and got cursed and
yours lifted away in seconds but
mine lingered deep within.

If this is the punishment
for telling that I loved you,
I’m glad I didn’t mean it
that night when we said it.