Gluttony Isn’t A Sin
To feast on silences,
rich with promise and
garnished with warm breaths
To sip a thought
and feel it roll into the senses,
curling up into the head behind eyelids
To taste words,
that have sat in the mouth before
but never quite this way
To swallow a feeling so tender, it didn’t need chewing and feel a lump rise to meet it
What’s for dinner?
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