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

Witnessing 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 looking at 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