Necromantique

I read you.

I read you well for about three full hours this morning -

trying to decipher the lines in between

and the lines you omitted,

the ones I deleted,

the ones we forgot to forge.

I read you and my laughter bloomed -

the lovely randomness,

the unequivocal sarcasm,

the gleaming metal,

the monstrous front

and the quivering whispers beneath it.

I read you and my back was on limestone.

I read you and the air grew heavy.

I read you and daylight went dim.

At last,

you have grown spikes for a spine

and serpents hiss on your behalf.