you, in your grays and blues,
with eager expectations clawing
my skin from its bone.
you tore me apart just to see
the colors that I would spill.
paint them in every hue
and they still wouldn’t be
the right shade for you.

do you expect me to smile back
after you’ve pulled every molar
from its bed? to lend you my
splintered spine for your knife?

the miles soaked in blood
are now stained for you.
but you would still claim
there is more to give.