Field Notes ▪︎ Prose (2)

1. Dead in love

Let them send me your bones when you die I don't want to be buried alone.
I want you holding me even in death, even when we're not resting in a comfy bed, even when worms are feeding on my cheeks; no more kisses for my grime tongue just peanut butter on your cold bones for them to eat.

Dead and in love I never seen somethings so real so enthrallingly devine out of harrow boreholes clasping, clutching grinded soulmates in graves branding them moon liquor, tender diggers of the heaven's river