Quote:
I'm in love with the dead. I sing for them at night, when everyone's too busy dreaming of their lives, and none is left to remember those who now belong to oblivion. I stare so hard upon the faded pictures on their graves that I could swear they almost curve their eyebrows in an indifferent thanking. I run my fingers on the inscriptions, brushing the dust from out the letters that are so lovingly engraved upon the marble, so shallow, so for ever...
I play with the dirt around their bed of blessed permanence, sitting as far aside as possible, as if I wish to be no trouble when they will seek to rise again. I talk to them, hours and hours, from dawn 'till dusk and back again until the rooster warns me of my own exhaust. Few where the times when tiredness forbid me to feel shy for sharing their deathbed for a night, waking side to side with a tiny piece of death, waking with a piece of absolution and remoteness in me. With tenderness I kiss their lips on every ceremony I attend, as if I want to steal the taste that death's embrace has left upon them.
And I could swear, so fiercely I could swear that death still flickers on their ashen lips of calmness...
I'm so in love with all that's dead. Packs and packs of withered roses I rained upon the marble caps that held eternity inside the bitter earth I walked. White roses that were dead, flowers to flowers, death to the dead, paleness to their faded, to their beautiful, to their eternal eyes...
I have hugged so tight the corpses in the night, when the crude strolling of the living ignoramus stalked the moments of my, nay, of our peace... How lovingly would I shed my tears upon the rotting skin that only now and finally declares how vain it was, how dearly I had kissed and kissed their pale white lids that saved their eyes and heart and soul from a world that crushes 'neath its sorrow...
I have caressed their hair that snow was jealous of its pallor, I have drowned my fingers into it and with my eyes as closed as my respect to death demanded, I lied... Hours and hours under the blind moon, under the wind that was not cold enough to freeze the love I poured out with each breath, I lied... Whispering words of love to my dead sibling from the other side, my dead lover, my dead self... Waiting in patience for the silence of the ebon world between my rude and mandatory breaths... I lied.
