Already Zombies (Original Poem)

The graveyard is filled with lovers
The bars are filled with bones
We search for hearts in empty cages
And always go home alone

A Mausoleum lover
Silent as a tomb
I’ve been dead already
Since the day you left the room

We make love to corpses
Our hands unclean with ash
of past verse and roses
that never seem to last
We push aside
phantom limbs
of past Them
and pretend
we’re not dead already

The morning comes all deathly quiet
It was long ago bereaved
Is she even breathing?
Has she planned to leave?

It may be macabre
But, pulses are for those that care
I’ve been dead already
Only my bones are here

We make love to corpses
Our hands unclean with ash
of past verse and roses
that never seem to last
We push aside
phantom limbs
of past Them
and pretend
we’re not dead already.

She picked out the gravestone
She picked out the plot
She went to go live
And left me here to rot.

I dug my own grave
I simply reached too deep
I’ve been dead already
My soul for the worms to keep.

We make love to corpses
Our hands unclean with ash
of past verse and roses
that never seem to last
We push aside
phantom limbs
of past Them
and pretend
for just one moment,
we are not dead already.
We are not dead already.

We’re already dead.

Notes: A lyrical poem that could easily be set to a song. Some sad progressive-rock ballad, I assume. It speaks to the way we barely love other people while still dead inside from past relationships and lost loves. I wrote this after going through something very similar. My heart was elsewhere, and any action I took within relationship #2 was always filtered through the corpse-like remains of relationship #1. I am sure it may resonant with a few of you, and I hope you enjoy.

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