standing in the kitchen
just the two of us
and a flame
flickering blue
the smell of a gas stove
and your soap
that's too strong and too earthy
i lied and said that it smelled nice in the store
because you liked it
and now it simmers in the foot between us
and we watch the processed red "food" burn
from a can
beefaroni
watery thin red
it tastes like nothing
in the clear bowl we used since the beginning of time
intensely
words slip out
between the carefully guarded gates of my mouth
empty empty sad sad
all a facade
that you now see though
2 minutes together
and my mind is screaming
secrets well hidden
lies well deceived
you press the bowl into my hands
and turn out the light
"oops"
you apologize
no real need
i've walked enough times in the dark to know my way around
in the quiet pocket of my room
the 4 walls
soul witnesses to my fall
watch as my head spins
and my eyes close
heat burning through the bowl
burning fingers
but i don't feel anything
no more room for food
i can't find the strength to place it down
i wasn't really that hungry anyways