Stuffed Penguin

I watch as you make a hole in my skin
Obsessively pulling out my stuffing.

I can see the fascination in your eyes
As you keep on going
Until I am as hollow as that beehive
You used to play with.

The one that was super skinny
Because you had hugged it
Too tight, too often.

And because I know I too will end up
Like a faded photograph
In and album no one ever looks at
Because everything is digital nowadays.
Even memories.