now I'm hungry.
The cacophony of senses, the delights to the eyes, the tip of a tongue, the breath in disguise, it’s another evening inside this lonely house. But the night is still fierce, and in all of these years, I’ve found a comfort to be contained, finally the sauce is warm and the pasta’s drained. The bread has been buttered and the napkins set, everything made ready, and yet, something has yet to make itself known tonight – bring on the wine.
prompt submitted by gabekarl – thanks dear! <3
do a prose poem about food …..