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  • Yesterday, when I came home, my wife was lying on the ground,

  • A kitchen knife was sticking straight up from her back

  • With her bleeding on the floor, a stranger would be horrified

  • At seeing all the blood and gore that’s everywhere.

  • I just calmly walked towards her and smiled, saying

  • This will be quite difficult for us to tidy up, today.”

  • Though she did not move, I heard a quiet little chuckle

  • And her lips drew up into a happy smile.

  • Every day, when I come home, my wife pretends to be dead

  • I’m often awed by her creativity All her deaths are different, so I’m always

  • left there wondering What kind of death, tomorrow, will she show me?

  • She pretended once to have an arrow shot straight through her head

  • And once she died a soldier’s death, with gun in hand.

  • Still, the most ridiculous was dressing as a lifeless sunfish.

  • I just had the urge to close the door and leave her.

  • Cleaning up these morbid scenes is difficult, as it would seem

  • With all those bloodstains all across the floor and carpet

  • Sometimes, she cooks dinner with the arrow still stuck in her

  • It’s surreal to see my undead wife be cooking

  • Every day, when I come home, my wife pretends to be dead

  • I’m often awed by her creativity Nonetheless, the compliments I give her just

  • encourage her So I’ve just learned to roll with what she

  • shows me When we were dating, even though we were quite

  • busy, We would always find the time for us to spend

  • together Driving nightly down the streets or spending

  • weekends at the beach I’d always be so happy just to be there

  • with her

  • Then, we got married and at work, I was promoted And I started to enjoy the time I spent in

  • the office Often I would work away, forgetting that my

  • wife was staying Home alone all day just waiting for me.

  • Every day, when I come home, my wife pretends to be dead

  • I wonder what her reasons for that may be Does she wish that our relationship would

  • be as it once was And does the blame for changing it fall on me?

  • Every day, when I come home, my wife pretends to be dead

  • And so we spend our evenings, just her and me

  • If our love is destined to be manifested in this way

  • At least we can express our love vividly

  • Every day, when I come home, my wife pretends to be dead

  • I’m often awed by her creativity All her deaths are different, so right now

  • I’m left here wondering What kind of death has she prepared to show me?

Yesterday, when I came home, my wife was lying on the ground,

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