So many things… 2

He could say many things about this word, “tender”
All of them unabashedly unoriginal
But succulence isn’t romance
It could never be

And with that, sorrow followed
He realized that tender meat could never take the place
Of a life’s true love

So the man
In many ways just a statue
Dreamed on
Grasping for the Elysian fields
Where both ribs coated with perfection
co-existed with a box of chocolates


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2 thoughts on “So many things…