29 April 2012
(okay, please keep in mind I don't normally write poetry, I'm just trying something new :)
Walking at night through a cemetery, Each of our footfalls cautious and weary, Fleeting promises among the tombstones, Drunken jokes about voodoo and bones.
We almost form a perfect team, Two lovers perched atop a mausoleum. I'm already aware we both want more, Not knowing now what life has in store.
Our morbid love an inch away from crucifixes and carnations,
We respectfully know to hide our elation. The sky above is a blanket of grey, I hold your hand, I want you to stay...
A Lyric For The Dead • Opuss № I