Come one, come all, but come to me;

I am ashamed. 

I am ashamed and unable to assuage

this sense of personal calamity,

intentional invasion, ambush

of my more tender hidden places

And I fold upon myself

like the legs of a newborn baby,

the thunderous ache in my chest

reminding me of the barrenness,

the desert that is my body 

But she is the rain forest,

ignorant in her saturation,

thankless of water, of life

perhaps never feeling at all

the very things my wilting insides

thirst for so deeply

And so her fertile land will receive the rain

and I can only pray 

for some small mirage

to play upon my scarred surface, 

distracting my parched expanse

from the caustic sun above