LOVE LOST

I lost my appetite for love

So I sent its fruit-laden jar tumbling

And ate its raw bitterness

Word Eaters

Be kind with words, mildly eat

Not with oil of the furnace's fury

For then, the tongue shall burn sore

Neither from cold's slumber, dab

It's sludge would give you away

But in thought and gentle caress

Eat them, well cooked