Rotted flesh drops.
The crunch of bacon on hot pavement.
Our face.
Bloodied. Beaten. Running.
My heartthrob.
Rugged and rotten with chunks of black hair.
Just breath and relax.
He sees no other.
Those eyes light up.
Every time he sees me.
Take my heart.
I’ll protect you.
Eat, my friends.
I’ll be a good partner.
Rot for me.
Get rigor mortis, now.
I’m only…
living for the dead.
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