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Click hereA teaspoon of silence,
A cup of despair,
These are the condiments
In the meals we now share.
A dash of contempt,
A sprinkling of hurt,
(My, my how these little things
Ruin self-worth.)
A pound of misgivings,
A bowlful of tears,
A pinch of raw pain
Beaten through years
Of neglect and half-measures
Of kindness and heart...
Dinner a deux
Is now a lost art.
Humbled and thank you.
A lovely, if sad, poem, RM. I can just see the journey from loving, intimate dinners to opportunities to snipe at each other.
A mix of sad ingredients to make a cool served meal that's hard to swallow.
So, if not a dinner for two, hopefully, there's a friendly chat over fingerfood or at least a cup's length to share.
Thanks for sharing
Ouch. Brings back many sad memories of my own parent's divorce.
Well done.