Finely Chopped Onions
I'm the finely chopped onions
Sprinkled upon a bed of noodles
that hide naked beneath the soup
I'm the finely chopped onions
Peering over the edge of the bowl
to see the crispy, tender meat,
the silky, bouncy tofu,
and the soft, fluffy rice
all come and go
I'm the finely chopped onions
Carrying the burden of chili oil
While suffocating from the flavorful steam
that constantly rises into my face
and escapes the cage
that I cannot
I'm the finely chopped onions
Desperately clinging onto the warmth of the sinking noodles
While gasping for air
as I sink with them
Into the suffocating world of hidden spices
Into the embrace of savory waves
that slowly wash over me
I'm the finely chopped onions
That stick to chopsticks like a leech
That rise and fall as they command
While catching a glimpse of the sweet, sweet world
that I can never dream to join
I'm the finely chopped onions
That notice the abandoned peanuts
from the very first dish,
shivering in the cold
while longingly gazing upon the lively dance
of the newly arrived mango puddings
I'm the finely chopped onions
Left in the bowl at the end
Feeling soggy and wet
Alone and unwanted
But also unscathed