On the edge of the sun yellowed coast
south of malta
sunsetting forever
she fell for a cook
sparky smile
talented hands and senses
yet bland to the bottom of the barrel
the sweet afternoon aroma
of the long flowering mediterrenean shrubs
comforting the insecurities
the losing side
the knife could be heard cutting
grin and butterflies fluttering
romantic mutterings
my mouth stuttering
she fell for the cook
the restaurant was a small bar
where patient patrons would wait
food well timed
the grill overheating splashing hot oil
sarcastic laughter and openings to a potential lover
overconfidence staining that apron
all camouflage to the chemistry gone
sleep is impossible along these dry open corridors
where multitudes of couples look toward the sea
waves of light pouring off the surface
illuminating faces in a mood sure suave and smooth
shaded corner of the restaurant
ignored by wait staff
withering into the ancient stone interior
of the pinkly lit restaurant
dig your eyes into the eaters
ignoring you as they savor
the best taste of their lives
meal is finished glumness colors their cheeks
their smiles return to grimaces
and they start to retreat into the darkness
out of the pink healing light
where love radiates like the aroma of food
overpowering the senses
then completely absent
dig your mind into the fact
she fell for the cook
she was your world your only life
she was your glee your true wife
since we got off the boat
death your hand knife his throat
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