leftovers of myself
body mind and soul
wrapped in cling film
in the back of the fridge
laid bare on the porcelain
a martyr of my vulnerability
bones with scraps of flesh
wrapped in thoughts unsaid
at first devoured
savoured
and desired
now left to decay
dissected for what i am
discarded for what i will become
and yet i remain
the memory of me
a taste that will linger
a recipe
forgotten on purpose
not quite ready for disposal
not quite a priority
an afterthought
but a thought nonetheless
not craved but
palatable
for now
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