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You eat, I watch – this is our way. How things have always been. You eat the meat and bounteous fruit set out, while I - I drink my wine.
You eat, I consume your heated glance and sighs; your satisfaction, softly moaned, so only I can hear it. Your toe drags up the side of my calf, beneath the table cloth, and you coyly look away.
I’ve watched you eat the finest meals humanity can provide. Roasted ox and oysters fresh and salty on your lips, leaving you glistening. You always wipe your lip so delicately between bites. I still see the gleam. You eat sushi and crepes worth dying for in careful bites, determined to preserve the pristine fabric of your clothes. Your teeth cut sharp.
I’ve seen you with honey dripping on your tongue, and chocolates melting on your fingertips, only to be licked clean. The sweet, the spice. The rich and rare. The undeniable decadence of truly, truly enjoying your meal, of eating something more than manna; how it feels in your mouth, between your teeth, slipping down your throat. You were made to delight in the world.
I delight in you.
You stretch your toe a little higher and order the dessert cart. You’ll order something thick with cream, and I’ll take a coffee. When you have wiped the plate clean, set your napkin down, let me pay the bill, you’ll mention that you might still be a little peckish.
You eat, my earthly angel, my sinner so divine.
I wait my turn.