Nervous coughs
Containing love
Fill the air,
And it's contagious.
The lights are low,
But Your eyes are
Bright,
Filling the spaces of
Dullness in the dark corners.
One half smirk
Containing a
Secret,
Plus
One half bite
Of spaghetti,
Equals my attempt
Of not tripping and falling for you.
Your long, slender fingers
Twirl the glinting fork
Between your fingers like
A baton master,
And when your lips,
Softened from the
Intimate lighting,
Graze the prongs
That are draped with
Spaghetti dinner,
And your teeth
Clink with the metal from the
Prongs,
I desperately wish,
For the first time in my life,
That I could be a food utensil.
