Clean-
Hunger abound in the eyes of a stranger
But for which delicate tastes?
Top hats and tea don't cover the
Ill flavour of the meal
Silently consume your body
Mind feeding on the weary words
Tangling them into needled but polite
Dinner conversation
Forks on the left
Knife in the right hand always
Poised
Tip shining like an oncoming storm
Delicate ornaments decorating
An otherwise stained cloth
Adorned with the stories
Of a thousand slip-ups
A thousand times it slid from open mouths
Forgot to
Put the napkin in my lap
As I always do
Seperating the smell of candles
From the smell of dismay
Spotted wine glasses empty
I forget myself
Losing utensils
Eating with my bare hands
Just to feel
Customary cleansing
Always finding the
Stray napkin under a plate
-KW/O7
Unknown "♠Mysteria♠" Wild
- 16 years, 8 months, 12 days ago
