A bowl of You

I made leek soup because
I didn’t know what else to
do to occupy my mind.
I had kissed you good bye
until when you return to me
and I will hold you again.

I chopped the leafy plant and
with every cut of the knife a
tear fell to the cutting board.
My hands missed the softness
of your cheek and neck and
once I even tried to lie to myself
about the soft center of that leek
being as tender as your skin
an hour ago when we traded
I love you’s.

Why would I do such a foolish thing
trying to trade that last touch of you
for something as simple as food.
Forgive me for such a waste of time
when all I wanted was a bowl of you
before I go to bed.

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