BOYS

DO PART

Till death do us part—
it's kind of funny.
We will live in a whirlwind romance full of passionate kisses and cherry knots. Scorch each other's tongue with obsidian smooth lips. We will have a sunday morning kind of love, red wine and cheese at 10 a.m. Touch each other's shoulders and toes; reach high into the sky and grab a star just for you. Scream into the sky, your name until the gods make you a constellation.
We will love each other until our heart no longer bleeds, and when it no longer bleeds, we will not be human anymore. Therefore we will not love, because we are not human.
So until death do us part is a lie, indeed.
I am human when I am dead.
I will be a decaying corpse in a scratched up coffin, buried 6 feet underground and my heart will still be pumping blood, only for you.
The roots from trees will bury themselves into my ribcage and grow moss among my pelvis. I will fill myself with the dirt surrounding me until it replaces all the empty spaces within me. Death will not do us part, I will love you in death and after death and whatever is in between.

I am all bones, dear, and I am all yours.