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| photo courtesy of Magpie Tales |
Empty of meat
Back on the street
But, oh, it was sweet
That little morsel of you
You noticed my greed
Mistook it for need
Allowed me to feed
On your fragrant, ripe fruit
Now I've had my fill
And you're feeling ill
The creeping, bleak chill
Of dissection
Your will has grown weak
And your voice has grown meek
But I'm not one to seek
For protection
I swallowed your heart
Was your gift and my art
It's all just a part
I play very well
Your spirit is dust
It might be unjust
You're only a husk
But, oh, what a beautiful shell.
submitted for Magpie Tales, 69
