Thou wilt bury me as evidence of my loss.
I am no more than those who walk with me
Amongst the death in my mind.
Thou art my grave, and I will rot in thee.
Love makes the nails that keep me inside you.
Surely worms have spread beneath me
And maggots are my covering.
My bones know no warmth, no rest, and no love.
Your coldness keeps us hallowed to lie together
In my Graveyard.
Forever.