There was no greater pain

than having to watch her be

eaten

                consumed

                                digested—

as she became fuel

for the monster who ate her.

What a waste of skin--

Oh what you cannot taste.

Not the sweetness in her voice,

                Or the tenderness of her touch,

Not the sound of her laugh

                Or croak of her morning voice.

The monster devoured her,

ignoring flavor;

satisfying starvation.