In the middle of my tomb
He appears.
I'd banished him...
I resurrect from my flooded coffin
Hell bent on
Forgiving, but-
My infant heart shatters as I realize
For the hundredth time that-

Like prisms held up to sunlight
Tears, too, can play cruel tricks at night.

So, as my heart miscarries
For the hundredth time,
I stiffen as I remember-
My lack of you-
Need of you,
But even though you're Church Bells
Away from me
You won't again grant me peace
Or pleasure at night-

For I know you're warming up her thighs.
Yes...
I know you're warming up her thighs.

Kyle Hamp

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-skeletonette-in-the-closet/