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Serving you a piece
Of my heart
In a silver platter,
And yummy,
Filled with promises
Of luscious kisses
And sweet nothings.
You devour it
With your long fingers,
And your tongue
Clicks and clacks
In consent,
Which I take
For love,
But wait!
Do I hear something?
Oh, that’s just a burp,
I am so glad you are full,
Now your turn
To say some words,
Or at least ask,
If I have had
My share of heart
Or do I even eat at all?
But you check your wrist,
You are breathing fine,
Why whine?
Oh, that’s the time!
How late of you
To stay up so late,
It must be
‘Cause of what you ate,
That gives you
A funny feeling,
That I wait
For an answer,
But I have never
Asked a question,
You see,
I do this
‘Cause I yearn to see
A nod at least,
To tell me how good
A cook I am,
Coz I cut me open
Last night
With a knife,
And didn’t sew me back,
For other pieces I have
Taste just as good,
And you would be fed well
Don’t get fed up just yet,
I could use some salt
And some spices
To spice me up,
And you would like it
Even more,
I am sure
You would be happy
And content,
Just like you are now,
But I wait,
I still wait
For that smile
That you hide,
Maybe for that eye
You had served
To a stranger in pain.
I could do with a laugh,
Or a peek in your heart,
I can’t dare to taste it,
Not my place to decide,
I can’t dare to dream it,
Not mine to be fried,
But I lied
That I am fine,
It hurts sometimes
Where my open chest is,
Not coz I am out of pieces to sell
But to know
I am alone
And hungry
While you get fat.

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