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Necrophilia 3

I knew he still remained where I had left him
I could feel the detritis of his coffer in interim
his lungs had not breathed in divulgent eons
extemporaneous were half-truths misstated to lean on
defunct in texture and exquisite in malformation
his paralysis was a fate sealed in my coronation
my god-head a prescient was a patriarch in decay
the substratus to all my early loves that had fell away
leaving me bare to such winds of foretelling dismay
all the middling pestulent words had led me astray
into a seminary terminus semblant of terrestrial seedbeds
a flourishing genesis of desire ebbing away the truth bled
my heart had imbibed it in an embalming-fluid tang
his kiss twinged with yesterdays dreams and stony pangs
my sepulchral send-off to bury his bracketed brandishings
I placed it in his mouth to eternally hide among those things
while left behind he was a perfect receptacle for rings
he gave no reply to whether I had any accolades to sing
perforated in peritoneal piety by pinpricked perception
diaristic in its detriment drowned in desirous defection
I had dragged him by his tattered twisted robes of emanence
his incandescence visible amidst a foundational permanence
I darkened his space and sealed it under creaking boards
the cracks through which sent trodden grit into his ward
how I had heard his voice in my ears so fragmented and frayed
so dead to all else he had strived for in his lifes decay
alone my love waited in the vestibule of my charnel house
under a porch with light filtered casting slices of doubt
barely known were particles to float around him forming
a cast away of the fabric of lifes refuse and spider strings
alongside insects and tiny critters he lie in contemplation
fantastic mummification shrouded in fate-imposed mortification
my propensity to hero-worship had ended in his degradation
and my aversity to his untimely demise was a fabrication
with a heterodoxic demurral to so chivalrous a deed
in a congregation of truths half-known to be freed
my faltering forgiveness of his fortuitous audacity
no longer was alive to mend his ways with such tenacity...
Written by PoetsRevenge
Published | Edited 12th Jul 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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