"If Death Be My Maiden"

The souls of the dead  
she wears like a robe  
they sweep the path in her wake  
the hour before dawn is her time  
dusk is always to late  
she calls me to her table  
and the bones we eat there  
are my own.  
 
Death is my maiden these days  
we sit on a park bench  
i speak of precious things  
she takes my fancy  
i breath in her air  
it smells of insence  
i touch her thigh  
cold to the touch  
do i dare?  
 
Death is my desire  
she steals my interest  
but its imposible to talk to her  
she cant hear a darn word i say.  
"Im deaf" she says.