Dining Dead

Just the same as times before

We reserve our name

Wine we will pour

Waiting to be served

Those things we have so deserved

Dining after weeks toils

Pining for all weeks spoils to squander

While across the table

From me she said

Over great ocean and sea now

Under her breath

A sigh and a plea

She said to me

I have headaches of my own

So don't dare you disagree

Like the pulsing cadence of the telltale heart

This meter marches me onward

And though I'm dazed

I'm truly awake

From a spotless mind

I must depart

Yet not because on-looking eyes

By a heart that compellingly vies

Outside eyes condemning spies

Bid me quickly to console

But our meals are now served

Feeling now somewhat unnerved

Look away change the subject

It might provide a fleeting fix

While audibly louder now

Chiming clocks second hand

Provokingly ticks

Lend a kind word

And take of her hand

And with hope

You shall gird dysphoric land