Dish Served Cold

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Revenge, hate, spite, jilted, love, cry, lost.

Submitted: October 03, 2011

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Submitted: October 03, 2011

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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.


© Copyright 2017 Ian Dawn. All rights reserved.

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