He can touch me
Like I am a statue in his garden
To visit on every idle Tuesday, or holiday
Everything will turn to time

So I will let him feast on me, fearless
Wild, swinging vine to vine
Tearing smaller creatures apart
With just his teeth

We met at my weakest moment
And his highest pride
I am magnificent as a rainstorm
And just the same to ruin the daylight

I promise him nothing
But all of my nothings are cursed
To be sweet, nourishment
I am always so eager to fill his cup

I am only silent when I am too scared of the sound