necromancy committed in a quiet tomb
if you can see me / reach out and touch me. / i only exist when you touch me / when you command me to life.
my shy fingertips uncurl at the sound of your voice, echoing chant filling my ears. warm like the womb, warm like the tomb, i Know you love me despite it all. every orifice a home for maggots, yet as beautiful as the day i lay into the earth. i am a flower in june when you call my name, for i bloom in the night when we are alone. What was once the dull ache of grief is now the sharp pang of love— resurrection despite the Natural Order, you are my god who has brought me back to life.
breathe life into me once again / give me shape, give me form / Galatea would weep with envy at the sight of me / finely, lovingly sculpted / from waste, mere organic matter.
the asphodel fields mean so little when you are not here. feelings of a grave sin committed, feelings of guilt– none of these have any weight now. uncontaminated abomination this body may be, it is Yours and Yours alone. you longed for Me, now here I am, in this form which you have created. this is the form of love, of desire. from beyond the grave i felt your ardor, and with such fervor i was brought to life. For what purpose was i made except to love? for what purpose did you stir my peaceful slumber? Did you not know that love was ugly?
now put out my sepulchral fire / the dead cannot imitate the living. / Even though you started it, / Even though you desired it.
away from the prying eyes of cherubim and seraphim, i long to flee with you into the mist. i cannot be this pure thing in white linen, i cannot be this soft thing what smells of jasmine, for i am nothing more than a corpse. i am decayed, i am rotted, i am nothing but bleached-white bones now. you created this futile imitation of life only to recoil in fear. my love, my shy fingertips uncurl at the echo of your voice, dissipating into the darkness. what light remained from the sabbath candle is gone now, and i am in the dark.