Spaghetti

Twisted and bland,

Our love was like a Spaghetti strand.

Wrapped around a fork

Twirled and twirled

Until it was devoured in one fell swoop….

Slimy, slippery, skinny, and scanty.

We added one strand to another,

Sprinkled it with salts and seasonings,

But the meager strands wouldn’t have fed a starveling,

Let alone the gluttony of the insatiable…

Our love hung mid-air.

Like strands of spaghetti from an uncouth diner’s mouth.

The slurps and smacks deafeningly loud.

Even the ugliness and unpleasantness was quite alike.

From forking it with forks

And chopping away with chopsticks,

We make a go at our weaker-than-noodle relation,

But slippery as the contents on our plate were,

Nothing really stuck….

Twisted and bland,

Our love was like a Spaghetti strand,

That no sauce could ever repair.