29 April 2012
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, (okay, please keep in mind I don't normally write poetry when you read this. I'm just trying out something new :)
We respectfully 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