Feeling after Midnight

Necrophilia

I stay until it's dead and then some.

I stay until our love has no pulse, and still try to revive it.

The blood from its' wounds could be pooling around me and I'd still try to stop the bleeding.

The body can go stiff, and I'd still try to embrace it. I'd force its' arms around me and pretend to hear the heartbeat.

There could be no breath in its lungs, and I'd still be there doing compressions..desperately trying to breathe the life back into it.

So far gone that the body's gone cold, but I'd still try to wrap it in a blanket.

Its' lips could already be blue, and I'd still kiss them as if they could kiss me back.

I'd hide it in my closet and keep it as my darkest secret before I'd ever put it six feet under.

Carry it around with me like the rest of my baggage and love it before I'd ever let it go.

Even if it's dead in reality it's alive inside my head and I can not accept anything else.

Because to accept that it's dead is to let a  part of me die with it.