My kitchen is lost of rosemary scent
There is no lemon left to cleanse your tongue of my flesh
Sweet fruit has left a bitter breath
When did your stomach have its fill of me?

I have been devoured by you before
But it looks nothing like me in your mirror
A reflection arguing against my digestion
I lay still as you consumed my suggestion

I think you may have misunderstood me when I said
"You are what you eat"
My flavour was not yours to beat me with