Lying on your bed
With sunken cheeks
And a balding head
Your lips are sealed with a shiny gloss
So that no snores may escape your sleeping mouth
Your wife weeps above you
With rosy cheeks
And curly hair
She mumbles her good-byes
Through shaken sobs and parted lips

Mr. Skeleton Man
You look so handsome in your suit
The gray matches your hair
Of which you have little left!
The suit widens your shoulders
Making you look stronger and broader
Until one looks at your skinny arms
Which rest in pillowed sleeves

Mr. Skeleton Man
Your bony hands peek out from their cradled gray
Clasped together with ashen blue veins
That pop against your bleached skin
For that must be the reason that you look so white
They must have bathed you in bleach!
They must! They must!
Why else would my eyes water?
(The burning is to blame)
Why else would my throat clog?
(The scent is obviously too strong)
Why else would I want to hold you?
(Surely to brush the flames away)

Mr. Skeleton Man
Your touch is stiff and cold
May I warm your hands against my own?
If my grip is lacking
It is due to the fear
You will shatter beneath a tighter hold

Mr. Skeleton Man
Forgive me if I have disturbed your slumber
I will leave you to your dark chambers
That we lovingly shoveled dirt upon
That fell with our flowers and tears