Meal For One.

The predictable monotony of meals for two?
Or the purported individualistic freedom for one?
I am yet unknown to answer.

I watch the couples fight & sing, play and love,
I see their knives cut deep into each other’s hearts.
I cringe & wince at each stab & slice.

I feed myself alone
With dreams of love that none provide
Imagination feeds on the days gone past.

I saw a dream today which I invited to dine
She looked & cried and made me run & die
A lowly disdain which ruined her day.

Sauce of sweetness, a sour seduction
A failed mix of smiles & thought
I grabbed my coat & trailed away.

I sit here, in the glory of my cave,
The girl in two tone, rich in fascination
I talk to her alone, a secret whisper sown.

Her body fine, sweet salacious curves of youth,
Her gorgeous hair flowing poetically, I long to hold
She smoothed her dress, I wished to talk & shine.

But she knows nothing of the world I am
She sees my shadow tremble in broken lust.
Her power cripples me. I fail.

This meal for one in a single chaired room,
Filled with tears from the pain of age,
I pretend to love her, but no smiles exchange.

I made her laugh through crimson wit,
I heard her giggle & the flame of joy leaped softly across her lips
I wish she knew of the conversation held.

But her food grows cold, & I sit alone.
I wish she’d sit & enjoy my world.
Yet stranger remains a distant hope of love.

~ I watched a film of two & I saw her today. I cannot escape this fix of mine. It tears me so.
© ed simkins

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