She’ll speak to the dead with her head on one side,
Punctuate conversations with the roll of her eyes,
For jokes loose their bite once the dust takes my teeth
And laughter is dry without a tongue or lips and speech.
Watch the cracks for my mind and I have long fell out,
We were in for a while but overdue another bout
Any apologies would be useless in this little war
The maggots will mean the argument is lost for sure.
Once the stone grows too cold she will bore of my grin
But don’t put my skull back where I lie straight and thin
Up here is a sun to bleach the old bones white
And a silver sheen smile beneath the evening starlight
My nerves frayed to cobwebs and caught the last draft
I won’t feel the heat or ice like I did before in a past
With dark empty sockets I’m staring on blind
But it’s better than rotting satin and myself for all time.
But while you perch on my name you may chatter on
Tell me of those who remained after my coffin was gone
If they became neighbours or settled elsewhere?
And have I mentioned, I only died just over there?