Her memories of love
Are shed
Like a snakeskin
Rubbed off on a rock
Drying in the sand
Too small
Itching and pulling on
Muscles that long
To slither away
To something new
Her tongue flicks out
Heat of a body
Found with a sense not shared
With mammals
You think you're sitting still
But you radiate "I'm here"
She coils, anticipating
The strike, the locking of fangs
Making you hers
Love is to the death
Yours, of course
Not hers
Eventually, she'll shed you too
Just another skin along the trail