In death I still have you

the first time I stank
when I kept you dead
when I should have manured
you into the root of fresh promises
as I was oft-tempted in death
where I can't find ash
so I choose my body as the crypt
to hide you bone and body
and tattoo an epigram of you demise on it
as a reminder of the war,
cry and victory of losing you.

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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