Avocado/The Longest Metaphor

Over a table set for obese kings and picky queens, she spoke of people who spoke with different tongues, but kissed to compromise with taste. She said, "Once upon a time, I knew I would have to be kissing you for the rest of my life if I ever wanted to figure you the fuck out." as she played at her plate heaped with all the things that she didn't like. I stabbed at the plate, gluttoning myself on more of the things she couldn't stand and said, "Not too long ago... you were fighting me away from the stash of "goods" we set aside for ourselves in a house that wasn't ours but home enough for then and for every moment we had to actually dwell in the company of your infinte-walled bedroom and each other. I remember fighting over the last bagel with a butter-knife sword in-hand ready to smite it right out of yours as we both laughed over harmless hunger and tastes of the last remains of cream cheese on our lips. No compromise, just a kiss. But we must've been speaking from the gut of peasant stomachs." "Even then, you had more guts than gluttony." I said, "I'd rather kiss to compromise than to ever go hungry." "Your favorite was Big Boy Gyros off of the alley cut by the house you compromised into a home way before me- but made known like the infinite walls of my old bedroom back at my parents house- and that's when I told you I didn't like burgers." I looked at her the same way I did when she first exposed a flaw to me, "You told me something must've been wrong with me" she laughed in the same disbelief I did cause it was the first time she was ever in the wrong to me. I laughed at how harmless some wrongs can be. Then I kissed her and told her that I guessed she belonged with me though I wasn't made of silver spoons and snaps of a finger to feed her befitted needs I could show her ease in giving something she already disliked a chance if she already took a chance on loving me. "Now look, you can't get enough of them. Just no onions or mustard, but even pickle-juiced and greasy-lipped, we found a way sealed with salty-fry lips." "I can get enough." She insisted with the tap of her fork at the the only part of her plate showing. "Nothing is good enough for my Queen.." as i rose my fingers to snap for the cooks she told me "-remember when I would eat nothing but ramen noodles, but I always made them special for you." "Eggs and hot sauce don't make for royalty, but you insist we ate like kings." But she couldn't understand what no one else has the guts of gluttony to say, nothing was good enough to me until it fed the desires or at least looked the part. "Sweetheart, they say food is the way to a heart, not gluttons of mutton and a side of bullshit." But morality doesn't put satisfaction on the table. Something she just couldn't understand.