You Might Say That Death Has Relaxed

I Think For A Minute. Watching My Wife Fade Into The Distance, I Put A Hand On My Heart. "dead." I Wave A Hand Toward My Wife. "dead." My Eyes Drift Toward The Sky And Lose Their Focus. "want It...to Hurt. But...doesn't." Julie Looks At Me Like She's Waiting For More, And I Wonder If I've Expressed Anything At All With My Halting, Mumbled Soliloquy. Are My Words Ever Actually Audible, Or Do They Just Echo In My Head While People Stare At Me, Waiting? I Want To Change My Punctuation. I Long For Exclamation Marks, But I'm Drowning In Ellipses.

I Crush Her Against Me. I Want To Be Part Of Her. Not Just Inside Her But All Around Her. I Want Our Rib Cages To Crack Open And Our Hearts To Migrate And Merge. I Want Our Cells To Braid Together Like Living Thread.

Soft Flesh Is Eaten By Hard Teeth.

She Hugs Me. It's Tentative At First, A Little Scared, And Yes, A Little Repulsed, But Then She Melts Into It. She Rests Her Head Against My Cold Neck And Embraces Me. Unable To Believer What's Happening, I Put My Arm Around Her And Just Hold Her. I Almost Swear I Can Feel My Heart Thumping. But It Must Just Be Hers, Pressed Tightly Against My Chest.

I Don't Know... There's Something Kind Of Beautiful About It, Don't You Think? That We Keep Living And Growing Even Though Our World Is A Corpse? That We Keep Coming Back No Matter How Many Of Us Die?