for an old friend (and quite an experiment with rhyming for me)
She loves the dead
She loves the dead
more than she can love you.
Don’t judge or get it in your head
that you can make her forsake
her path to tread.
She’s supposed
to love the dead.
She’s tattooed with tragedy.
She’ll take a punch.
She can quid pro quo
and that’s no hunch.
You see, Mr. Easystreet got her on her knees.
Took that last little bit of innocence and squeezed.
Please, he didn’t even try to not drive her crazy,
and damn sure made her think she was diseased.
She loves the dead so much
that if she could find him.
She’d make him such
that she could love him once again.
If only for the minutes he’s on the table
and love letters ready for the scalpel’s touch.
But, came along Mr. Stonerboy
with his obvious soliloquies and notorious revelations
he dug her from her mother’s ossuary.
Yet, With his flair for futility and self-deprecations
He knew just where to break her
so the world could witness her torrential overcompensation.
Now those she’s healed
and she still loves the dead.
She holds them close ‘cause they lack secrets and lies.
They don’t depart until she’s resewn her x’s and y’s
But, don’t get it in your head
that you are immune.
On a future day with your skin cold
she’ll capture you in her swoon.
She loves the dead
even you and you and you!
She loves the dead
more than she can love you.
Don’t judge or get it in your head
that you can make her forsake
her path to tread.
She’s supposed
to love the dead.
She’s tattooed with tragedy.
She’ll take a punch.
She can quid pro quo
and that’s no hunch.
You see, Mr. Easystreet got her on her knees.
Took that last little bit of innocence and squeezed.
Please, he didn’t even try to not drive her crazy,
and damn sure made her think she was diseased.
She loves the dead so much
that if she could find him.
She’d make him such
that she could love him once again.
If only for the minutes he’s on the table
and love letters ready for the scalpel’s touch.
But, came along Mr. Stonerboy
with his obvious soliloquies and notorious revelations
he dug her from her mother’s ossuary.
Yet, With his flair for futility and self-deprecations
He knew just where to break her
so the world could witness her torrential overcompensation.
Now those she’s healed
and she still loves the dead.
She holds them close ‘cause they lack secrets and lies.
They don’t depart until she’s resewn her x’s and y’s
But, don’t get it in your head
that you are immune.
On a future day with your skin cold
she’ll capture you in her swoon.
She loves the dead
even you and you and you!