Honesty- My love, my dearest. My sweet. My honeybunch. My warm buns of delight. My everything. Why oh why couldn’t you handle the immense power of our love? The burning flames of passion ignited for us and could not be put out by any of mankind. Why oh why doth God create such heat and desire? We had the love that dare not speak its name for it envelops lovers in a frenzy. We had a date planned. A glorious date, which would’ve recaptured our moment behind that cherry tree all those weeks ago.

You took my hand and we romped around the rolling grassy hills. The wind in our hair. The sunshine above us. We were not hiding. We were free. I stood in front of you, and put my arms out, each one at a time in a seductive way. I turned my palms over, one over at a time, revealing this as a mating dance. I took my right hand and moved it over towards my left shoulder, and proceeded to put my left hand over onto my right shoulder, flickering my eyes at you. Next, I put my hands on the back of my head, just one at a time slowly. My hands then lowered towards my hips, each one at a time to the opposite side of my hip for each hand, staring directly at you. And then I swapped positions of my hands, moved my hips three times, and turned to my left and clapped to commence our love.

We were embraced in happiness and warmth, and we found that tree. On a path to Eden, we ate the cherries and we tasted true love. The devilish Snake did find us as in Eden, but we beat it until it subsided, and we rest on a pile of leaves, breathless, full of joy, and yet a sadness that our moment of bliss had passed. We played cat and mouse for weeks after trying to build up more intensity in our passions. But I was your Macaroni, and you were the Tomato that needed to be mashed into sauce. We were meant for each other. The salt and pepper. The Fork and Knife sitting next to each other at the table. We could be separated, but always would come together in the end.

A plan for a reunion was created. We had a promise. We had a planned baby which you would’ve tried to abort. Not because you didn’t want it, nay, but because you wanted my body in prime shape for our games of love. Honesty-, your body lay here still glistening with heat. I will take care of it. I will create a shrine. I will preserve our love. A Romeo and Juliet story were we, but without our families in the way… rather just solely the fates blocking the consummation. A role of the dice. An end to our passion, but I will defy the fates. I will defy God taking you away from me. I still have your body. I stole it from the funeral home. They will never be able to take you away from me, and our passion can continue beyond your life.

I will cover you in make-up. I'll get paint if need be. I will brush your sweet face my dear with the finest of horse hair. I will blacken your eyelashes, and grease your lips in the darkest of reds. I will get you a wig or for the time being use a mop. I will replace your eyes with glass. Should your tongue not be everlasting, a pink sponge shall take its place. I will duct tape the parts that need to be held together. Staple you to keep our love whole. Nail what needs to be nailed. You will be my living doll of purity and love as I know you would have wanted me to do.

You will be so beautiful. I will tell you how beautiful you are. I will sit down with you and speak to you. I will tell you how attractive you are, and how much we were meant for each other. In defiance of the Lord. In defiance of the norms. In defiance of all that society may deem decent, I will continue our romance. You may not be able to speak anymore or maybe I will hear your voice. We can have conversations that no one else can hear, while you profess your love to me and I to you. You may not be able to move. Your sweet hands may wither, oil them as I may, but God did give us the ability to patch. I have the glue. I have the needles. I have the thread. I have the skins of cats and small animals. This will be okay. You will remain whole. I know your spirit will live on in this shell, and our immaculate love will beat death. Your statue will define a generation of lovers. People will think of us and their lovers and only wish to reach the heights we have in our sweetest romance. It’s with this that I go back to the basement with your body and contained soul, preparing, preserving, and salivating at the deliciousness of my savory yet sweet prize, a delicious dish between my macaroni and your tangy sauce.

Just cos he's dead doesn't mean the loving has to stop.

I mean, some people like their food cold

just saying.