Dear Valentine, Are You Still Mine? Poem by Delwen Doyle

tracing hearts across your gravestone
i wait until the night is still
then begin to claw at the cool damp dirt.

The hours fall away,
but i draw nearer and nearer
closer and closer
to the one i so achingly miss.

At last, fingers raw, I`ve reached you!
Mine pink lips kiss Thine withered purple lips
i embrace your worm-holed body
the decaying corpse of my friend! lover! muse!

Night`s chill sets in
but i stay, nestled beside you
the sharp earthy smell envelopes us.
I whisper lines of neruda, ginsberg and shakespeare
to your blackened ears
the tender vicious lovely words fall flat on dead air.

I still my breathe, hoping yours will come
a tiny whisp of vapour
a slight blush to your cheek
a faint heartbeat
a vital sign that you`re still mine
and not Persephone`s plaything