"What do you write about"
He paused, with shivering pupils,
He answers
"Nothing interesting."
Nevertheless, she stares.
Perhaps on different frequencies,
His defeated, Her unaware of a competition.
She likes baking.
2 teaspoons of flour,
1 teaspoon of strawberry,
1 bowl of melted chocolate.
She likes strawberry cakes.
And he just made that recipe up.
She tells him the recipe all the time,
But his eyes and mind are elsewhere,
How the flour sticks onto her fingers,
How awkward she looks wiping her sweat with her elbow,
How beautiful she sleeps while waiting for the microwave.
"Write about me sometime?"
YOU ARE READING
Ode
PoetryHere's an ode to the night he/she left; here's an ode to the anxiety you feel on a sunny morning and everything was supposed to be fine; here's an ode to the feelings left unexpressed; here's an ode to the words left unsaid, or perhaps what can...
