Knife and Fork

The roast lamb is served, the potatoes are golden, and the vegetables steam a happiness which curls and weaves a path to the chandelier of crystal so bright.

What a delightful sight amongst the candles on this moonless night.

I think of your body and the way you used to say, “let’s die with all the money!“, or how you took my body in your hands and tried to squeeze out all of my light.

Scraping my fork and knife on the dinner plate sends shivers down my spine.

I’m reminded of that time you squealed like a piglet when I stuck a knife in your heart.


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