you cook, and you offer,
and i refuse out of habit.
you don’t push it.
and the familiar taste of regret.

but if you’ll just keep coming back.
iim working on breaking my habits, i am,
long enough they’ve had their turn on me.

today you can come sit in the kitchen with me.
just... just sit, just sit.

a lifetime of starving, and now
being offered this great big meal
i just don’t know how to eat.
i wouldn’t even know where to start,
not with you looking at me, all expectantly like that.
at least mix some poison in.
not enough to kill,
i just want to taste it.
please. if it tastes too good to be true,
it’ll make me feel so ruined.

okay, how about this?
i fiddle with the cutlery.
here, stick this knife inside of me.
you can, if you hold me tight as you do,
what i mean is,
you can hold me tight
if you stick this knife inside of me
someplace it won’t do too much damage.
nothing lethal, just to feel it.

please, i know you don’t want to
but i don’t know how to be held without violence yet.
i can’t trust anything without a little poison in it.
i really don’t want it to kill me,
i just want to taste something familiar.

i’m not ready to eat today
but i’m sitting at the table, aren’t i?
not going anywhere.
unless you ask me to. just say the word.

i keep saying

[i]are you sure, are you sure, are you sure[/i]
i’m really such a mess, are you sure you want me
at your table?
are you sure you want this?
it might take a long time for me to be ready.
are you willing to wait?
do you have the time to?

tomorrow, i might be ready to admit i [i]could[/i] eat.
as a throw-away line; said casually, but said.
the day after, i might be ready to take a bite in front of you.
but i fear the moment i do, you’ll glimpse the real hunger in my eyes
and it’ll scare you off.
i wouldn’t blame you. like looking at the sun, i think.

[center]grow up starving, do the easy thing
-- start saying you’re not hungry.
say it enough, you’ll start to believe it.
that’s how you learn to live without
until you really can do everything on an empty stomach.

you killed [i]NEED[/i] because you could. [i]WANT[/i] only grew bigger.
so, you lied and lied and lied until everyone believed, most of all, you.
you don’t even realize how much you’ve been lying to yourself.[/center]

i get by on an empty stomach. i need not. i need not.
i’m so hungry, though.
...can we pretend you didnt hear me say that?
i just -- i can’t bear to be seen that way.
i want too much, that’s the issue.
easier to act like i don’t want at all
than to admit how much i do.
like looking at the sun, i think.

[center]it’s ugly and profane.
[i]"i’ve seen it,"[/i] you say. [i]"it really isn’t, to me, at least."[/i]
fine, i guess. but there’s too much of it.
it’s too intense. the heat death of icarus,
me, and the universe, all in one place.
you laugh.
you [i]laugh?[/i] what about this is funny?
[i]"see, you look at the sun and see only heat death.
i see warmth. i see light. i see life. i see 7-dehydrocholesterol being
photochemically converted to vitamin D, in the skin."[/i][/center]

today, you can come sit in the kitchen with me.
you cook (with so much love) and you offer.
i refuse out of habit.
you don’t push it.
how many meals gone cold will you forgive?


[right]you offer, i refuse. you don’t make me eat, but say,
[i]"you know i like cooking for you, right? you know i want to feed you, right?
hey. you like cooking for me. even if it’s amateurish, you still want me to
eat well. you know that.
how come it’s so hard for you to believe someone would want to take
care of you?"[/i]

i don’t even want to take care of me. why would anyone else?[/right]

but
tomorrow, if you’ll come back
i’ll be sitting at the table


[center]i [i]could[/i] eat.[/center]