Day 267

Death couldn't tear us apart but it certainly tried.
It took less than a year for her to come back to me.
She wasn't like I remembered but she was still the woman I married.

Her hair smelt like the mud that still clings under her nails, she won't clean them.
Says she has to keep her coffin dirt with her or she has to go back.
I'll mind these changes just to keep her here.

Last week she dropped her arm.
The maggots inside wanted to be free and, bless her heart she let them go.
She manages without that arm now, I tied some lace around her open shoulder joint.

I swear she hasn't stopped smiling since she got back, her teeth are still the same old pearlies.
Sure her lips are a tad smaller, like two old red balloons all deflated but she's still my gal.
Every time she smiles, my heart swoops like it always has.

I'm beginning to suspect she's changed more than I reckoned.
She's an early riser sure but it don't explain why her night dress is all torn and stained red.
I'd ask our neighbour, Mr Jefferson, but he's been out for a while now, must be fishing.

Having said that, if he was fishing then his back door would be locked... not wide open.
I haven't told her I went inside to look.
I don't wanna make her mad, not if I end up like Jefferson.

I wonder if he'll come back like my wife, shrivelled, smiling and changed.
Never tell her I think this, she's suspicious though.
Always was sharp, still is.

Part of me still loves her, you know.
Part of me wants to pretend she's still my old gal and everything is as it always was.
I can't ignore the bloodied night dresses any more.

If I cut off her hands she'll have to go back and rest.
I hate to lose her but this is no way for her to live.
I just hope she goes quiet like the first time.