You say
people should accept
whatever love
is given.
But you would make me a beggar.
You would make yourself
a noble benefactor,
absolving yourself
of lingering guilt
for my hunger.
Sometimes dignity
nourishes more
than charity.
Not all hungers are eased
by common morsels.
Perhaps your scraps
provoke my allergies
or intolerance.
Perhaps they fuel addiction
cause adverse reactions
or come with conditions
I cannot abide.
There are darker afflictions
than a growling belly
and gnawing heart.
And kinder favors
than selfish crumbs
disguised as
“love”.
© S. Rinderle, January 2024
