The Grave Robber – Gothic Poetry

The Grave Robber

by Matt Wall

I was just lying in the ground,
When someone seemed to have found,
The place of my eternal slumber,
In the dirt, a box my cover.
Pulled my box out of the hole,
My body, my box, this woman has stole.
The woman, blonde, was dressed in black,
And on a carriage she took me back.
Back to the dungeon where she resides.
A flame of lust appears in her eyes.

On a table, my box it lay,
She pulled the top of my box away.
Pulled out my stiffened corpse from the box,
And on to the ground my box was tossed.
She pulled the worms out of my skin,
Dug out the maggots from within.

She kissed me on my cold, dead cheek,
My frozen hide was so bleak,
But joy was set into the heart of the thief,
Who joyfully breathed a sigh of relief.
“No longer am I alone!” she cried,
But alone she was, for I have died.

She took me into her bed.
Upon my breast she laid her head.
I felt a tear roll out of her eye,
Onto my rotted, cadaverous hide.
I wanted to tell her that it was all right,
But, I am dead and I have no life!
She laid there and cried herself to sleep,
And did that every night for weeks.
Until, something happened one day,
Brittle and old I withered away.

“Not again!” she cried in fear,
“Please come back to me my dear!”
My whole body, it was dust,
No bones, no flesh, just powdery crust.
But, my skull was intact for my love,
And she picked it up as if it were a dove,
She placed her lips against my teeth,
Maybe not my heart, but my skull she shall keep.

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