Churchyard

Sleep hoped for as death, prayer admitted useless, church bells ringing through all of it. At its centre is a burial request. He ate the heart right out of her, her own taste is all that is left when he kisses her, and she asks to be put behind the chapel where he first met her.

The bed is a coffin of sorts where they lay, the nails hidden in all the love they make. The last question is left hanging, whether she is going to have to dig her own grave.