the candlelight sends no shadows dancing
across the tablecloth like in years past.
deceit drips slowly from your swollen lips.
you pause periodically to wipe it away
with the silk napkin draped delicately across your lap.
it lingers there though,
staining your mouth a most brilliant color,
indescribable but for the fact
that when seen it feels as though
a knife slices swiftly through my heart
like it does the tender veal on your plate.