Wither

baby hands clutching at the moon
begging, "take me with you"
milky white night
trying to touch, to taste an angel

the way you look at me
I shrivel, wilt under your deflowering
I know every nook and cranny too well
the bend of your knee, the crook of your elbow

so I fashion myself a new pair of eyes
wide, glossy, innocent
pretty, glittering, ignorant
I only see white and pink and green

your skeleton creeps under my bed
I meant to ask, do you want it back?
it has no use, no broth to flavor
I do not eat anymore

I live off of the raw self-hatred bubbling in my stomach,
the acid stewing in my gut
you spoon-fed it to me,
are you happy?