Sweethearts that have finally met,

gistening eyes, glimmering inside an empty room,

Empty house, warmed by the sun.

Her’s warmed by his sunny stare.

They’ll watch dust babies collect,

Blown by collective laughs,

Termites gnaw at his bone in mistake for housewood,

She’ll bite carefully too.

Rots seeps where weeds follow,

but conversation never falters,

Her words muffled by hanging skin,

He can still hear her through the groans of scrapping bone. Perfectly well.