Nights with Lady Yunalesca

I enter the bedroom.
The Lady sits on the bed,
ready to read over to the scriptures with me again,
"How about we catch the sunrise?"
I say,
almost tripping over the rubble.
"Ha,
you're full of jokes tonight."
I sigh a small sigh
and shiver a small shiver,
the pyreflies wrapping up around the undead lights,
misgivings and fear spilling into the air.
"I'm not a necrophiliac,"
I protest, weakly, faint and final.
"Spectro,"
she says,
"it's
Spectrophilia,
and don't kid yourself."