Dark Poem ~ On My Plate

At the dinner,
of silent bitterness.

You are the disease,
on my plate.

Heated meatballs,
float in gelatinous gravy.

Your flesh a gift,
on my table.

Giving thanks to,
these misgivings collected.

The poisons: filter on life’s plate.

My listless palate emaciates me.

Your moistened flesh,
is my sickness.

No scars shall form,
on the meal that is you.