burnt overture

Within, I burn
like tomato paste
left too-unstirred
over too much heat.

By the time I add
all the rest, and check
what else it needs -
it's a waste of time,
complete.

Serves two.

One who'll complain of the burnt and salt,
and one who'll assuage and reassure: "No it's
perfect, it's fine"

It's not, you insist.
It's burnt. It's salt.
It withers the tongue
and throat. Let's have
some more.