All I want for dinner is you.
To taste leftover Chinese food on your tongue.
I have always been easily amused- but you- you not so much.
So I will wrap you delicately and consume you inch by inch.
You will taste like coffee and lavender lemonade. Like 2am French fries and insomnia.
Your flesh will feel like tired limbs and early mornings. Like hesitant kisses and Full Moons.
You will be warm. Warmer than me- so warm I may melt.