The hummus, too, had contents shed.
Prediction grew to truth. My food
Was doomed before a bite got chewed.
Reclusive guy might lose the drive
To share his time, and then contrive
Exclusive pleasure when alone
Extensive measure can't postpone.
My vices are devices to
Devise a way for hiding you.
Providing right divider might
Deny your sight from any site.
You've been replaced by nothing. Days
Are havens, for no daft displays
Deplete the rest my senses need.
Your stupid remnant will recede.
Pursuing truant tone can be
The truest mode of being free.
If you owed me, I'd see you cursed.
Were I to owe, my nerve would burst.
Reclusive guy might lose the drive
To share his time, and then contrive
Exclusive pleasure when alone
Extensive measure can't postpone.
My vices are devices to
Devise a way for hiding you.
Providing right divider might
Deny your sight from any site.
You've been replaced by nothing. Days
Are havens, for no daft displays
Deplete the rest my senses need.
Your stupid remnant will recede.
Pursuing truant tone can be
The truest mode of being free.
If you owed me, I'd see you cursed.
Were I to owe, my nerve would burst.
Wow, this articulates what was on the faces of practically every customer I served back in the restaurant day. Chills, and the smell of burnt rolls.
ReplyDelete"Were I to owe, my nerve would burst"
ReplyDeleteGreat ending! :)
Well written. My poem is up too.
ReplyDelete"Your stupid remnant will recede." That hangs in the air for me...
ReplyDeleteAnd the first line is excellent. I like what you're doing with these conversational/natural rhythms...
Love love love this! I can definitely relate to the message as I have served and still do serve food occasionally. Beautiful rhythym. :)
ReplyDelete