lovers

i bury leftovers
in the fridge never
to see the light
or heat again, never
to be warmed up and
savored as they once
were. they have gone
into the deep end,
frost bitten, snowed
under. they have
been their last meal.
i've lost the taste
for what is wrapped
and put away. the idea
at the time seemed
good, with nothing
going to waste, how
strange to think
that way.