Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Dish Served Cold

Poetry By: Ian Dawn
Poetry


Revenge, hate, spite, jilted, love, cry, lost.


Submitted:Oct 3, 2011    Reads: 40    Comments: 10    Likes: 5   


Revenge is, so I am told

A dish that is best,

Served up ice cold.

With an ounce of spite

And a cup of malice

Measured just right

The retribution of you

Is tonight's house special!

On my evil thoughts menu

With a dash hate in my eyes

I wouldn't want you late.

For your own demise.

I sit and mix my earthy pot

And get it seething

And boiling hot

The table is set and chair ready

For you to be served

So calm and steady

I smile, and serve the first course

My trust is heated just right

And covered in a distrust sauce.

This is followed by the main

My broken battered heart

As it is always, torn by pain

And for desert my humiliation

Floating in a vat of custard,

Sweetened by your imagination.

For all the tears you made me cry

There is only one thing left

And that's to say goodbye

And for my parting gift I save

The best dish of all

Your dark cold grave.





5

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.