When "Close" Becomes "Strangers" (Our Last Kiss) -7/11/04

I kissed a corpse today, its waxen lips
Were just as I recall, yet lacking flame.
Its heat had leaked through eyes in salty drips
The taste was sour: apologies and blame.

Its eyes, no longer blue but now turned white
From blindness cultivated to conceal.
They do not know my name, or wake to sight,
Because we both can feel this isn't real.

Yet Love is so alluring still when dead.
It lies so that it simply seems it sleeps.
Just waiting for the Prince to bow his head,
Bestow his kiss, that stirs it in the deeps.

Screw Love,
Let it Rot.