Spoons

It started simply enough

You asked if I had a spoon to spare

And because I loved you

I lied, and handed it over.

Next time you needed more than one.

I hesitated, but you didn’t see.

So I dug deep in the drawer

Pulled out the forgotten soup spoon,

The rusty antique half teaspoon

Which I hastily wiped off

And you snatched away.

I struggled that day with a fork instead

And ignored everything that bled through the tines.

Along the way you stopped asking

And simply shook out the entire drawer.

I politely showed you my overflowing bowl

But didn’t speak

Lest you turn the knives against me

As you continued to feed yourself.