Portions of the dinner sit untouched.
Wrinkled peas and crusty potatoes
even now begin to show decay.
The wine was dry, the salad crisp and fresh,
but somewhere in the middle of the main course
something was said.
A little thing.
A careless remark.
With bowed heads,
and forks aimlessly pushing food
across our plates,
we share a silence
and digest the hurt.
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