The Grave We Built Together

That night, we became a single organism�"
me and her.

I tied my soul to hers
with waves of love
and threads of lust.

I breathed through her skin,
watched her pale, distant flesh
turning blood-red,
warm like a summer night.

She smelled like roses, dry yet damp,
drifting through the summer heat.
Her sweat sparkled�"
illuminating the grave we built together.
A grave of love,
lust,
and dust.

I stared into the universe,
through her heart�"
a distant, throbbing drum,
pounding,
sweating.

Her heart,
a temple of forgiveness,
ready to pardon the sins of lovers
in exchange for one thing:
a little love.

I saw time pause
at the back of her throat.
It was warm,
it was gloomy.

And when she smiled,
the waves froze.
The sun died.
The moon wept.

Midnight crashed into her hazel eyes,
eyes heavy with cloudy tears.
Those tears washed over me
like an October rain,
drowning my divine pain.

After a thousand years of solitude,
I was alive again.

Her melancholic, cold blood
pulsed into my veins,
merging with my warmth
like heroin�"
freezing my heart,
crucifying my soul.
And I was hooked.

But by morning,
when the sun rose,
after a night of roaming with the dead,
she left.