Hot sauce on everything or so we thought

Hot sauce on everything, or so we thought,

a rite of our dinners, a flavor we sought.

"That’s not normal!" came the laughter tonight,

as they shared their meals without fiery bite.

Every breakfast bright, every lunch redefined,

crushed red flakes that felt like home, intertwined.

Now I sit small, heat burning like shame,

what else was routine that I can’t quite name?

The burned edge of a favorite dish,

grew up with the thought it was all a grand wish.

But now here I am, wondering how it feels,

with a bottle in hand and too many meals.