A Month's Growth

30 days have divided me into several pieces,
warped by subatomic preference.
Your degree of persistence
pushes through my vision,
radiates my temples,
pinches my veins.
Some of my edges will cut you,
But if you let me, I will surrender to my quanta,
and I will dissolve.
You might feel my crests and troughs,
and your senses will consume me
but know, love, you will never feel my true texture.