Are you really what you said you were when you said to us what you were with that smile on your face

Were any of the words that slid from your mouth like nurse home spaghetti ever anything but tricks to open our hearts (which are pure) so you could swallow them and eat them and grow almost as much as we shrank (but lasting shorter, the growing, because you're already shrinking back (I can tell from the things you said when you last said things in my direction) while we're just smaller now (little, little, small) to size).
And we're bitter about it.
If that's what it was. And is again now. When you're saying these new things and we're aching like we're made of shells; aching not even like we're made of shells, to open up again and expose some organ for you again to see that we really are what you ask us to be, and we really are something that you might think about asking about.
Looking into your eyes, your beautiful eyes and they're looking into ours and making us wonder if we're as pretty or as crude as we ought to be.
You're so pretty. Please don't eat us like a snake.