Climb, Slip, Fall.

Dead on the ground.
You touch my cold skin,
My sight pushed back in.

I am dead but I can still feel your thouch.
You are warm.
My flesh is rock.

You let the tears fall into my open mouth.
The salt is a welcome taste.
I am so familiar with you.

You beg them to stay.
They refuse.
Inside, I am screaming for you, like you cannot believe.

They never see the tear that hardens on my cheek.
You help them carry me out.
Last night, you buried your heart in the ground beneeth where my feet will lay.

The wood creaks as the slide my body into the ground.
And you can't hear me,
But I beg for you now.

The days pass and worms eat through the wood.
Glass shatters as it falls off my eyelashes.
My skin starts to peel.

As I melt away now more than ever,
I hear them pulling up weeds above.
I wonder if it's you adding more flowers to a dismal grave.

My fingers screech as I stretch them.
The seperation from yours has made them bitter and old.
I tap the wood, begging for escape.

I am just bones now.
My muscles are praying for flesh to appear again.
My veins are aching for blood.

Around me the bugs eat what's left of my flesh.
I ask them to stop.
They keep their selective hearing on.

My tongue is starving for your taste.
My eyes are wishing to see you again.
My mind wants to think of you once more.

I reach for you.
Alone in this darkness.
It blankets me in cold, when I wish for your heat.

My hearts pleads for you, and beats weakly for you.
They roll down a second casket.
My breath picks up the scents of the freshly dead.

On both sides of me,
New bodies.
Neither one is you.

I hear your voice above me,
Asking for me to come to you again.
But I can't tell you I never left.