Maw

He used to look at me
Eyes glowing with the light reflected off my brown skin in the moonlit scented spring
Rough fingers tracing thrilled goosebumps.

Now he cannot see me
Blinded--

--thought I from the pale sickly glimmer of my fat ill flesh, reflective in glutinous adiposity, but I healed myself, toned every muscle like cord, effort sizzling me like simmering sirloin, savory scent drowning other men's mouths with sweet saliva, sweated skin, and still he saw nothing, so--

Perhaps it was not light reflected off me, but light passing through me.
Am I dead, a hungry ghost, 
Translucent personality faded into memories
That I eat to fill in the space, pack on pounding pavement-chunks of person--
Person that is person, no matter how small,
"We are here, we are here, we are here"
I scream as I shove cake into my jaw
Hoping with rocks in my stomach perhaps it will weigh me down
Color in my lines
So he can see?

Or is he the ghost
The spectre of love dead
Translucent, pale like a cave fish
Jaw unhinged, drifting aimless
Jumping, dopamine flush, at the slightest tremor in the dark water
Fingers on the video game controller
The metaphor, like the man, is dead.

And til death do us part
So I die
And if I die
Before I wake
At least twelve hours it would take
Before he noticed.

I die
I must have died
For this is just a shadow
Of what I once called life.