The simple product of five minutes of drivel, nevertheless I hope you enjoy.
You're dead. You're dead and you haunt me. It's been three weeks since you were killed and I have visited you every day. Are you not satisfied?
I miss you. I miss you like the desert misses the rain. I stand at your grave and weep, hoping that there has been a disgusting mistake. That it was some other ginger angel that was struck down that day. But to no avail, it seems that no matter how much I cry or beg, howl or hiss I cannot change the name on your tombstone or the body in your grave.
The rain is coming down hard tonight isn't it? The ground is muddy and wet, my hair is plastered to my face. But you already know that don't you? You can see it with those big, beautiful eyes of your's. The rain doesn't matter. The wind doesn't matter. The cold doesn't matter. All that matters is that we are together now. All it took was a shovel, and we are together again once more. Your beautiful body in my arms. Some call you a corpse, but I know better. I know things don't have to change.
My darling why are your lips so cold? Let me warm them up. Your tongue still tastes the same. See? Nothing has to change. Your clothes have rotted, never mind it makes them easier to take off. Your skin may be cold but it's still soft as ever, ginger locks curled around my fingers. Your body is so cold, I'll warm it up with mine. There doesn't that feel better? We must be quite a sight, two men lying up against each other, naked in the mud of an old graveyard during a thunderstorm. But you've always like strange situations haven't you? See? Nothing has to change.
My love I'm afraid this must be our last kiss for tonight, I must go. I will be back tomorrow night without fail. As for now, I must bury you once more.