The bread crumbled in your fists
'But, I made that for you.'
Your grimace made me wince
You threw it on the ground
And you spit on it
You spit on the bread I had baked
For you
2 years ago
And you called me pathetic
Because I had baked you bread
And I cried, because,
You made me feel pathetic
Later that night,
You gave me a ring on the phone,
And you apologized
But what you didn't realize,
Was that I had already
Burned my hands
From placing them on the oven
In a sense
I couldn't feel my fingers,
I couldn't feel anything
All I knew was that I would not bake again