consumed by the dark

I make friends with moths

That leave holes in my heart

They are attracted to the light

But my sun is eclipsed

I let them feed

On every broken piece

I let them take

Only then do they realize the mistake

Because I’m made of cruel things

Of poison ivy and belladonna

While their mothers taught them manners

Mine taught me about barbed wires

About stone walls and breaking hearts

About the art of hiding

Of being nothing

So they can take all my nightshade berries

That stain their hands like blood