Bodies (Final draft)

Laced together inevitably:
we have finally managed to fold in upon each other.
Just two sets of ragged bones splintering out like
insults falling gracelessly; as rain suicides
itself onto the very cold ground that we,
at some point,
will be buried under. Forgotten, but-
at some point I daresay that
my lips will make a hollowed sound in the
beat inside your ear drums,
my voice never quite the same, being eaten away by the
worms and the germs and
this is getting so much worse - I know-

That if I scream out to you: incessantly tender,
there will be no heart of a voice to hear.
There will be no vibration for you to beckon under
in a cathedral of broken tuxedo bodies.
Fallen, the angels that never were…
But what are bodies, but things in which we
hold that of which we know we cannot keep?

To let go of thirst and hunger and soon-
your finger prints on me will no longer
stain simple flesh. No longer gives off hives
on the knee caps that your tried on like armour-
only to find an empty space. Similar to the
chasm between the two missing heart beats,
skipping as though to never sound again like a heart until
my skin, desperately desecrated, had enveloped your essence within
itself. If we were to see an afterlife where
our two structured bodies were too much a
mosaic then a piece of music,
I swear unto you here and now:
I will adore you under a ground
where the fumble of my body against
yours, is deemed to never be felt. Where my organs will
function only to remember the pain that this sacrilege leaves
behind it in a darkness where for once, I am not
too scared to visage my own nakedness
but more too scared that you could not perceive it.
Perceive this-
If the light is something almost fictional,
I am still ready to walk into it.
All I hope, is that our bodies could be found,
too faces laid to rest on a ground,
never marked, neither by name nor number.
Together, beautifully blue, in our unexpected slumber.