The heady scent of graveyard dirt
Permeates the room.
I try to look into your eyes -
You stare into the gloom.
I try to talk to you on love -
My efforts are in vain.
I try to feed you strawberries.
You want to eat my brain.
Finally, I give it up.
I'm giving you the shove.
I'm not cut out for life with you
And your strange zombie love.
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.