The salt.
Have you ever seen
Grains of salt
Falling?
To the water.
To keep the pasta
From sticking.
To keep the pasta
From breaking their passions free.
The grains fall
One by one.
As knives into the heart
Of my one and only.
Deep.
Cutting through.
Like whips
On my back.
Like seduction
In the darkest night.
Flour, eggs.
Bubbly water.
Salt.
Recipe for a broken heart.
Destroying romances.
Long and slender.
Spaghetti like swords
For killing instantly
Love.
For destroying
Us.
A.
Alfredo was his name.
White as the winter snow
Covering the mountains
Hiding them from the world.
As I hide
My pasta
With thick, creamy
Luscious alfredo sauce.
O! woe is me!
My spaghetti, is it gone?
Nay, it hides
Beneath the snow
Beneath the cream
Beneath the deliciousness.
But, why?
Boiling water.
Prelude to my romance.
Or is it, the end of it?
Will the wild pasta
Derail my passions?
Or tame my blackest heart?
Will my blood flow
As I take the black pasta scoop
And run it
Through my wrists
Becoming one
With Spaghetti
I pour my blood on my raven hair
Mimicking the most red sauce.
I am one
With Spaghetti
But why?
Was I not human?
Is this my destiny?
If so I must fulfill it
Become one
With Spaghetti
Distress, hunger, flour.
I sit here.
In the table
Oh, my italian lover.
My delicious provocateur
Your sauce
Blood red.
Tears.
Tomatoes.
Ground beef, despair.
Was it all worth it?
How can I eat you now?
My mediterranean Romeo.
But I will fall again.
Mere human.
I need you.
Spaghetti.
