dinner

nascent beginnings
adjacent living
complacent sitting there,
imagining if you are eating dinner
and why i can’t be the spoon
or the napkin
watching over you-

why am i not
placed across you
surveying your face
every time you look down
for another bite of food-

no,
i cannot think like this
creepily drown myself
in obsessive thoughts like these.

ridiculous in their size and creed,
fantasising how
you feed yourself-

i have barely seen you exist.

but then i still concern for your
5-a-day
and whether you’ve had enough greens
today,
the way you take your coffee or tea
maybe two sugars or black,
or milky…

oh,
romantic child,

you are useless.

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