Desiccation

Desiccation
At first, you were hungry, so I fed you from my very hands.
All the delicacies of the exotic.
All the wonders of the world.
And when the thirst came upon you in a great waves and great churns, I dripped the water upon your parched lips.
The finest of springs and the most succulent of dew drops did grace you.
But your hunger was an angry empty beast.
You nibbled upon my fingers.
You slaked your hunger upon my flesh.
You devoured til only bone gleamed in the twilight.
And then you took upon my very marrow through the jagged edges of stressed bones.
Filled, but still with gluttony upon you, you satiated your dryness with the salty sweet of my sweat.
You opened my veins and drank upon my life til I was but a riverbed, arid and devoid of flow.
So great was the monstrous beast of your need that nothing but memory, much like the walls of the Grand Canyon, remained.
I was desiccated; you were inconsolable.
I stood proud and strong through the pillage of the moon.
I stood tall and long until the breaking of the sun.
I stood until I could stand no more
                         and the winds washed me away.
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