Deathly Necrophilia

How many can say
With their dying breath
That they had fallen in love
With elusive mysterious Death?

How many can say
Before their world turns black
That Death had indeed
Loved them back?

Doth the words of clarity
Be too hard to understand?
Or perhaps because Death's voice
Is always a demand.

He whispers against my skin
Trailing kisses down my neck
Teasing me with his hands
Making our clothes a wreck.

"This is necrophilia"
He traces on my breasts
In my sinful moans I realize
There's no eternal rest.

I do really love you
Even though this isn't right
Death enters me hard
So wrong and so tight.

Death, the dirty necrophiliac
Only loves me when I die
But I can't help myself
His body makes me high.

"Necrophilia, darling"
He growled with each thrust
"Yes!" I screamed with his name
My mind so drowned in lust.

Making love in the mausoleum
No one would walk in
Death drives deeper
Fucking in my coffin.

Death is a true gentleman
But he still made my body sore
Treat me like a lady
Then fuck me like a whore.