Consumption

The two points to midnight

My last meal was a ramen noodle from 12 hours prior

You mentioned fried rice in the wok

I responded with a slight nod

I can’t look at your face

Or even your cooking

It’ll kill my appetite

But then

What difference that it makes

When everything in my room

Is a constant reminder of you…

Me…

A significant other in your domain

Someone so helpless

It hurts to look

It hurts to be reminded that I’m unworthy

I found myself in the kitchen

I took a spoonful

A little part of you I consume

I chomped and chewed on the chicken pieces

Eating my grief

Trying to destroy those memories

Like a giant monster in those old Ultraman shows

But I ended up in bed

Crying

Interpreting your gesture

As the reluctance to be an accessory to my death.

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