The Unopened Container

In the back of the fridge, it lurks,

a bowl wrapped tight in saran,

edges frayed, an omen of dread,

a vibrant memory turned ghost,

whispers of last week’s meal swim,

its contents now a science experiment,

a visceral fear blossoming quietly,

dare I lift the plastic veil?

I imagine the colors bled away,

like a sunset swallowed by night,

that fear hitches a ride in my chest,

what might I find, if I unearth the past?

It sits, heavy with time, waiting,

like the peel of an orange, neglected,

a promise of sweetness long since lost.