Dinner

A starter of loneliness

A side dish of shame

Two helpings of grief

Made solely with blame

 

Fine whine to accompany

This bittersweet meal

Hope cruelly sprinkled

On a wound that won’t heal

 

My juicy, ripe heart

So full of past hurt

Dressed up and bursting

A rich, tart dessert

 

An illness so hungry

It lives just to feast

I exist here in solitude

In the belly of this beast

 

Its appetite endless

It’s consuming my soul

Seasoned and seared

It swallows me whole

 

(Written in 2016)

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