Till Death, Do Us Part!

One day, I unburied the corpse
Of my deceased lover who
Never reciprocated my feelings  
He locked lips with another woman
When he still dwelled in that deplorable death sack
Now, he was nonexistent so his body was up for grabs
Thankfully, he wouldn’t find my rambling disquieting
He had to listen for eternity
While, I jabbered incessantly with
That damnable lisp that he always detested
For once, I felt settled with him, not harried
Normally, I felt unfit around him
Usually, there was a pregnant pause
In the midst of our dialogue
And a husky, exasperated sigh
That signaled his disgust with me
Then he proclaimed that “I was infuriating and inane”
After issuing those venomous words, he walked away and
Left me to Rot
If he was dead, like now,
He would be quaint though dank
At least, he would not interrupt my nervous
Stream of thoughts with his inconsiderate words
Now he could restfully sit motionless
On my grandmother’s antique rocker
And grant me his seductive death stare
As I liberally talked
Or expounded about extenuating financial circumstances
Occasionally, I was bemused by his lifelessness
So I crept over and kissed him lightly
On his rotting lips
They were chapped and cold
But, the kiss still satisfied but
His vile words would not intervene
On this deathly romantic occasion
Sometimes, I would read excerpts from “Jane Eyre,”
Then I would comment that Jane could have
Rectified Mr. Rochester’s brooding
By waiting till he jumped from the highest floor
Of Thornfield manor like that loony wife
Whom he frustratingly pined after
Maybe, the women of Jane Austen novels
Could have prolonged the stiff countenance
Of their love interest’s faces
Surely, the reader could have availed themselves of the agony
Of reading rosy passages about animated Women
Adoring men that
Seemed partly dead anyways
Tess of the D’Urbervilles should have
Sought revenge on those abhorrent men
Who were indifferent to her abuse?
Much like Aphrodite who didn’t care
About Medusa’s plight and punished her
Only because some sea gods
Cannot keep their tridents under restraint
No, dead men were the greatest
You didn’t have to probe their minds
For any semblance of feelings they had for you
They weren’t boisterous, drunken, and restive.
Instead, they were infinitely silent
Which I am eternally grateful for
On our anniversary, I took my desiccated beloved
To the gravestone that symbolized the end of
His brooding and woeful masculine selfishness
Now, we could memorialize our deadly wedding
Beside the monument of his
Former disinterest in me
Limbs might crack but
He’ll still be delightfully intact
And boy, will I be loquacious?
For the rest of his nonexistence,
He’ll have to listen to me talk
Until I face my own demise
“Till death, do us part!”

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