Your box of taste sits on the table

Next to the silverware and dishes of high importance.

Please, if you’re able, make room for my unique flavor.

Only if your capable

Because soon the day will come

Where I am unwound

Lost and first through the exit

And at that time, let me take solace

Finding a measure of reassurance

That on a table

Next to the dishes from our wedding night

Next to the silverware we meant to use

Sits a box

Holding the smile you claimed

At the smells I would emanate