The Musical Meal

By Vaishnavi Ojha

"If music be the food of love, play on." 

The words echoed through the room.

One plate. One spoon. One fork.

He looked down at the dessert.

His eyes lingered over me. 

One music. One meal. Two chairs.

We sang with the chorus of our touch.

We binge-ate on the cake of our love.

Click.

One noise. One spoon. One tissue.

He hissed at the screams of promises.

I threw up the food of lies.

One mirror. One empty plate. No man.

I drank the water of insecurities.

I stared at the reflection of mistakes; Myself.

I closed my ears to the sound of my cries. 

"I ate too many calories", realised I, 

When I stared at my bloated belly above;

All after eating the meal of love.

By Vaishnavi Ojha