Alma

♥

As she put on his makeup and straightened his tie,

She felt breathy, and slightly light headed,

With a twinkle of mischief agleam in her eye,

Through his fingers, her own she then threaded.

♥

Gently caressing his cold blueish skin,

Of formaldehyde, there were still traces.

She was tickled to find rigor mortis set in,

Staying stiffness in just the right places.

♥

Mounting beds at the morgue proved a somewhat unglamorous

Grave, necromantic endeavor,

But, for the cadaverous, Alma was amorous.

Best summer internship ever.

♥