♥
“It’s over” she croaked, choking back sallow tears,
To her lover, aquiver with dread,
“Your perversions have worsened, affirming my fears,
I’ll enable you no further, Ned.”
♥
Brushing her cheek with his clammy, grey hands,
Gently stroking her dull, thinning hair,
Which promptly fell out into wet, moldered strands,
As his eyes met her cold, lifeless stare.
♥
“Since last spring, when I killed you, increasingly clear
Has the answer become, sweet Amelia,
For, now that I, too, am dead, technically, dear,
It appears we’ve cured my necrophilia.”
♥
When they kissed, his thin lips fell off into her teeth,
And her jawbone dislodged from her head,
But ’twas plain as the maggots a-wriggling beneath,
Long their love would live on — though undead.
♥
Buttercup's House 
A strongly evocative image