Unsorted
The Meal
I saw you the other day,
and your thoughts flooded my mind —
like an unwanted order of food.
Still, I ate.
Not because I was hungry,
but because you kept
putting it on my plate.
The flies in this room —
this place is a wreck.
The smell alone
would make a skunk faint.
Like orange juice and toothpaste,
your flavor contaminated my mouth.
A reminder that,
regardless of what I want —
some meals
are not mine to eat.