Guess Who Is Coming For Dinner
That dreadful day i went over to play,
Husbands and wives, we called a date,
She said she would cook for the both of us,
And commit crimes of the flesh as it were the last of us,
Awkward talk, simmering broth and blood on the tablecloth,
With eyes wide shut i felt a prick,
She explained to me her usual shtick,
She took a page from the big bad wolf,
In this story i was little red riding hood,
Which makes grandmother a euphemism for?
Wait hold on, i think i digressed,
For her tale of trauma was hard to digest,
But i fail to empathize,
How a lifestyle choice to cannibalize brew from weak family ties,
Her gleeful enthusiasm i wasn’t able to share as i was served medium rare,
Chubby cheeks, dimple chin, rosy lips,
And i fell prey to her teeth within,
The night went on as was planned by me and by her
As i did seem to enter her
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
