They buried the deeply departed in among the soft earth on a sweet summer night.
Tears staining the cheeks of every face among them.
At the end she reaches for his hand, her eyes hold a desperate plea and he takes her away from it, from the grave and her house filled with memories of everyone gone.
He brings her to a dingy crypt into a plush bed in which their two bodies collapse.
They lie together side by side, looking in to each others red tinted eyes.
Lips close to lips, knowing they shouldn't touch.
Caution is swept aside, when their craving for comfort wins over self-control.
A silent vow not to say a word, unless it's said using your hands.
Bare skin to skin, as clothing puddles on the floor.
Two bodies become one as whirlwinds of emotion overwhelm them.
Months later the departed returns and when all is said and done, neither say a word.
He watches her sometimes, with guilt for what he's done,
and he's always in the back of her mind and her regret is red as it runs.