The dinner

Some are born to be unhappy only

Life moves on like that

Some are born to the endless night and never get to see the morning

The moon, the whispers keep them up

Writing, riding, writhing in my sorrow

Rocking slow and gentle, arguing with rage and fervor,

Dining, like there shall be no tomorrow,

And then hating scorchingly, my body, for simply not appearing hollow

Reach your arms out with hope

To grab my body

But even if on a tight rope 

I would step aside

Even if

On the side of a cliff

I would still step aside

I can’t let you know

How I feel

To the touch

After a meal

I had to fill my sunken heart