On Consumption:
On consumption:
“Eat me up”
I don’t say it
But it underlies
The catch of a glance
When we pass in an empty hallway
The downward pitch in his tone
When he isn’t allowed to speak the words
The lingering fingertips
When I pass him an FYI
And I’m cooked
Char broiled
Seared to perfection
Crisp edges, soft center
I gather the data
“How do you like your eggs?”
And scramble myself in the pan
Breakfast in bed
I’ll feed his ego
Boil the meat from my bones
What he craves is always on the menu
Realizing far too late
He wasn’t starving
He simply craved the type of love
That never risked burning his hands
And all at once
I’ve been consumed
Entirely
Left with nothing but the spoon
Every drop licked clean
Wash it
Dry it
Place it neatly back into the drawer
Someday
Another hungry soul might find me
And “maybe next time…”
I muse
I’ll measure
And he’ll stir