To Feed The Fragments - Of Your Soul

I feel her hands, which strip my skin
unabashedly they slash at me
to peel away her thoughtlessness
looking for the profit in a pound of flesh.

What confessions can I make
while trapped in the quiet of this storm
as the serpent slithers, wrapping me in coils
~~~~ smiling… with those razor teeth
a magician - trying to reshape, not reform.

But I am only me - one single rooted soul
you can bite the apple
but you can't use me…..
to feed the fragments - of your soul.