feast

We plucked our great passion from the bones--

Like roasted chicken or Sunday roast--
With wild abandon, like we were gods,
Young and foolish in flowing togas,
Slurping at the fingers of maidens,
Until every last morsel was gone,
Till we were stripped bare like dirty beds,
Tossed into a pile and forgotten.

We both thought there would always be more;
We sucked the bones and tossed scraps aside,
Moved to the next platter of delights,
The sugary sweet unhealthy treats,
Disregarding passions we once knew,
Forgetting the sustenance of love.
And then we began paying the price
In toothaches and heartaches and lost sight.

When I looked up from my empty place
I saw that you feasted heartily,
Your cup of passion still overflowed,
Though not with the passion we once knew.
I was malnourished; begged for a taste,
Toothless and thin and silvered with age;
You recognized me from deep within
And held my head while I drank your cup.

If you thirst, I will go to the well;
If you hunger, I'll give all I can;
If you desire that which we once had,
I'll open my chest, offer my heart,
And once again you'll feast like a god;
Once again you'll truly be sated;
Once again you'll be blessed with the food
That nourishes two souls with each bite.