Necromancer
Trying to live again,
After you’ve died from a lovers knife.
Makes all others seem poisoned.
And yet,
He sprouted flowers at my grave.
Breathed life into my bones.
He’s been doing his best,
To fill the hollowness and refill my cup,
Anytime it flows from my eyes.
Anytime I bleed,
He holds me close.
Washing it away from us both,
One kiss at a time.
He’s never been afraid,
Of getting his hands dirty.
Whenever he had to unearth me,
Or put me back together,
Made each stitch sweeter.
Does his best to replace the rotten memories,
And puts in something good.
Whenever I manage to tear myself apart,
Over my past self.
Worried the present isn’t enough,
He looks at me,
Saying I’m a gift enough.
And I cry because I want to believe him,
Because his eyes say it’s true,
And I’m wanting to believe in.
I love you










