Fish tanks of things I no longer own

On this here almost empty stage, I present to you two cloaked tanks, 

both of which you might take with you upon your impending exit of my mind. 

However, you may only remove one cloak from either tank.

Now I didn't make the rules.

In fact, if I'd had it my way. I'd have performed amateur surgery to give you my limbs,

knowing full well that you are who they'd have mercilessly clung to.

My arms, beings of their own who'd have reached for you, despite my better judgement.

And my legs, who would probaby still run a marathon to you at the drop of a hat.

But as you can see, my limbs are right here, recoiling at your touch,

so we can eliminate those from your suspicions as to what lies 

beneath the heavy burgundy curtains that separate you from you do not yet know yet

is me. 

These are not your prizes,

nor your consolation delights. 

I designed those two fifty-six gallon tanks for your health,

and your happiness.

If you're so keen to know what I intended for you to have before you choose both and more,

it was my kindness within a box of deep, dark chocolate,

my compassion fused into a tissue box.

Yet that was only half of my ability to shower you with gifts. 

In the other tank, my love

in each wing of the butterflies that I ripped from the depths of my stomach,

just to show you that they were once there. 

Those silly little creatures gave the other prizes life, 

and while it's curteous to give you all of them,

I wanted to be rid of them like a middle-aged mother with her clothes from friskier times. 

You were an awful idea, but I dreamt you up in such a way

that I was almost enough for you. 

And while it was a risk to ask you here,

I was hoping for you to bring reliable greed with you in your trunk like the body

of who I thought you were.

You loved being a victim, and I had the perfect care package to have you come running.

But I never thought that you'd have taken more than both halves of my offerings. 

I presented you with two choices, 

but you held me in your hands and took what I'd never have been prepared to give.

You took your already bloodied claws into my chest, 

broke my bones, and tested out my heart like one would test a pin cushion. 

I kept trying to meet your eyes, but they were empty.

I heard, and even more sharply felt every crack,

as you savoringly retreated from my being. 

For in the midst of my gathering the cloaks and tanks of my own, 

I had forgotten your collection of similar artifacts in your bookshelf,

They, and now I, are yours to read and mock,

and I shall remind you that in the hollow that you have carved,

I will reproduce my ribs and within will become a moss, 

A fern of my dreams, and perhaps at some point, 

A flower will bloom amongst my greenery,

and I will carry it to you, front and center,

and wear it as a corsage.  

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.