The inside of her mouth is warm, like a fire is warm in the second you stick your hand in. I want to crawl inside and never come out. She has a large bed, like a plateau that falls into a cliff, and I consider rolling off but it's quite rude to let go of a girl who wants to be pinned, after all. Her wrists are small, too, like a child someone had forgotten to bury; if I look close, I can see where the blood's gone cold. I've never met a body without a pulse, so forgive me for not recognizing a corpse when it walks and talks and breathes like a corpse.

• (Is it my fault if she cleaned off the grave dirt when she came out? What if she stole the spark of life from a star and surgically implanted its light in her eye? If I sleep with her and inside her, can I make her alive again?)
• Anyone can crawl into bed with a dead body, but it takes a real sucker to close their eyes and call it a lover.