HIS LEFTOVERS
Molly B. Murphy
I know it really must hurt
you've even said it does,
knowing you'll never have me
not all of me, at least
I'm nothing, in a way,
other than his leftovers
just what he couldn't have
as his illness devours us all
There I sit, on his plate
the half of me that's left
as he sits there before me
staring off into neverwhere
You don't know quite what,
if maybe you should ask him
or just pick me off his platter,
maybe just take all that's left
I hope I taste good, but I fear
I can never satisfy your needs
for that half of me inside him
I guess was enough to fill his
I'm glad you didn't leave me
like a half empty bottle of beer
my head of suds all gone stale,
my heart only luke warm to cool
I didn't want to be wasted
left upside-down in the trash
to slowly drain into nothing....
At least I've had this last kiss.