You made a monster out of me,
A wet paper surface,
Rotten underneath,
Tearing when you pulled away.

Your skin was grafted onto mine,
You were a part of me,
Now there is a wound,
Where you used to be,

I pray for a scar some day,
Even a scab,
Anything to prove I'm healing,
Instead of ragged flesh,
Too wide for stitches,
Too deep to cauterize.

I cannot graft it
onto someone new,
cannot make a host
for what fed on me,
cannot siphon another's lifeforce
as mine was taken.

I search hopelessly,
for what cannot be replaced:
once-in-a-lifetime, or less,
love found
in an unlikely place.