Romance Me By The Grave Poem by Nyx C Styx

Lets pick out tombstones together
and engrave on them
our favorite quotes
so passerby's know
which lines we wish we'd written

cup my face into your hands
look past my eyes
into the gentle outline
of the sockets that surround them
the skull lasts longer then the face

in this world of not lasting
there are things that come close to everlasting
and the bones are as sturdy as they come

A mother speaks to her son
'Make sure she's preety'
'Yes, Mother'
'Make sure she's pale'
'Yes, Mother'
'Make sure her eyes are not the color of common brown'
'Yes, Mother'


Those who obsess by the grave know
the bloated putrid bodies that pass by
know nothing of class and circumstance
they know the eyes don't last
and where is the beauty in green eyes
that can't see past
the six feet of dirt that they're buried under?
they know that the skin doesn't last
and the only gradient we abide by
is the tarnished grey of rotting bones


Lets find ourselves
a plot of land
and agree to meet there
once we're done
and as my love you should come to know
I love odd numbers
so bury me 7 feet under
that should be enough
to dull out the sound of world above
or else what be the point of dying
if you can still hear the clamor above?