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Dinner. by Jeremy Tisdale

a romantic dinner for myself
rosebuds, candle standing on the table,
not to woo but just for flavor
run my finger around my wine glass
but I can’t make that sound come out
can’t make sweet music together

But watch this neat trick
I say to no one, alone in my room,
and rip the cloth off the table
and break all the plates on the floor
the spaghetti that was supposed
to lead to our first kiss,
starting at different ends,
is now twisted all up.

the flower petals on the floor
lead nowhere at all.