sharing a meal
on inherited dishes
is like eating
with all of the
angry spirits
of every fight
around
the dinner table
her mother’s linen napkins
taste
of waxy lipstick
and vodka
and stale cigarettes
every time
i wipe my mouth
it is like
open mouth kissing
a corpse
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
This is uniquely observed, love it!
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thank you. it was an odd thought before sleep for sure. i am so glad it wasn’t just me that liked it.
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Haha i have an alternative taste for most things.
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