Empty Plate

I could tell you
that I'm fine;
that my smiles have meaning
and I live life with meaning
as well,
but I'd be lying if I told you
that that were
true.

See, I want to smile,
and see that it has meaning.
Hey ma, what's for dinner?
She says that we're having
fake smiles and empty meanings
with my tears to ingest,
but these pangs of wanting in
my chest come out in tears,
like the liquids that I drank
to digest the emptiness
of my plate
from last night's dinner.

I wish I could tell you
that even after last night's
dinner,
that I felt better,
but no - I'd be lying once more.
So today, for lunch, I wanted something
more than last night's dinner,
so today's plate has much more
to offer, because I'm hungry
for meaning.

I eat with passion, and each
bite from you onto my neck
replaces my vacuous exposure of
my teeth,
with light -
with new meaning.
I stare into your eyes and I say
nothing. We let our
smiles devour us in silence,
because even the silent air with our
smiles mean something.