Loneliness eats me
Like an orange.
Fingernails carving away my skin,
To **** out that juicy pulp of hope
From the outside in.

He called me delicious, but that was lifetimes ago,
Words turning so sweet
They rotted.

I never should have believed him - “I’m
Not just a fruit to be eaten” - that's
I should have told him,
Before these cravings were cultivated. The ones that crawl in
Through the chasms of solitude
Like worms into the pores of my skin.

Because now all I want
Is to be squeezed out
By stronger hands
That make me feel delicious and
Turn my desires
Into the most mouthwatering of juices again.