so, what if i died?

not actually, but pretend.

 

say i sat there

in your victorian chair

 

and died.

 

who would you tell?

where would you take me?

 

and well,

 

what if the truth is

i didn’t have to die alone?

 

they’ll scribe me

as terminally patient

 

and blind.

 

waiting for you

to join me in death,

 

to promise me

an afterlife together, forever

 

and ever.

 

what if you promised

to hold me in your arms

 

tight enough so that our skeletons

interlace their bones, fossilize as one,

 

and we die together.