How might I serve you? (new title)

[TranquillityBase]

Love's Awful Consumption

Darling, I am afraid I have a hunger,
a savage desire unsatisfied. Your taste,
as you are, has never been as complex
as your scent.  A recipe, passed down
from my mother and hers, offers a cure
for your dim flavors.  So, let me cook you
 
a meal.  It begins in shimmering oil a tumble
of onions, medium dice, sautéed soft,
translucent, just to the point of tears,
careful to not over season.
A half teaspoon of thyme, no more,
lest you become tiresome. Now potatoes
cubed, carrots sliced on the bias, offering
pungent notes of loamy earth to play
with the flesh it craves. You will feel better
 
when freed from tedious tendon
and sinew, your tenderness bite-sized.  
My contribution, two cups red,
blood offered enhances the umami
of the gravy and bone dust to thicken
 
and for mouth feel.  Into the oven, a long steep
in the heat of a womb, a slow dance of sin,
an alchemic transformation until you can
be pierced without resistance.  Season
to taste with forgiveness.  Finally,
 
becoming my natural food, consumed
with crusty bread to sop up the rest
of you, now completely full in me.

Hey Bryn,

I'm not real comfortable cutting into your poem, but I did some probaby excessive whittling.  I'm standing by my reading of this as more erotic than macabre.  I suppose eating and sex have a lot in common.  Anyway, just a suggestion of what, for me, could be cut, without losing the essence of the poem.  Although what I see as its subject seems far afield from what others see.

TqB