I always loved the smell of pound cake in the morning. Of the sweet smell of a mothers love to her broken child. I always loved to look at its fluffy surface and touch it's soft physique. And maybe that's why I loved you, because you smelled of the rarest sweets and your skin was so soft and inviting. Your smile outshone the sun and your lips were sweet to taste with mine. But maybe that's why you left, because I never knew how to eat that pound cake and soon the smell would be gone and the rest of the world with any smarts at all were the ones who ate it. Maybe that's why you left, because I was too scared of losing you to love you. And now another eats from you, nibbles from your soft physique and sleeps to the aroma that is you. And I sit up at night with the thought of the pound cake that I never got to taste.