Persistently they come,
supping on pieces of my soul
in the form of conversation;
my essence on their tongues.

Gluttony disguised in verse;
insatiable appetites for meaning -
they seek comfort in a feast
of virtue’s delicacies.

With bones sucked dry of marrow
and no tidbit for dessert,
they soak my heart in lovely prose,
to prime the sweetest part.

How readily each savors the
tender pulp of femininity!
Quick to part with fuller bellies;
and empty words to fill the pot.