I just want to say thank you
Thank you for the kiss in bed
And the eggs in the morning

I just want to say I miss you
The way you type with your thumb and forefinger, I was always confused how you managed to hold on, not drop your phone in mid text conversation.

It’s been months since we last spoke.

But the idea that we can still be friends is comforting.

Like using canola oil instead of butter to fry an egg. No matter how much oil you dump into the pan, it’s still going to stick to the bottom. Come out broken and drenched.

The oil is a good substitute. But it is not the real thing. And I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter is just a replacement for my feelings.

The sky is not falling, I wake up in the morning and still brush my teeth.

But it’s night now. I lie in bed thinking about slam poetry, thinking about if only I had the right words. The right metaphor to make you feel like me...me thinking about, thinking about, thinking about, thinking about

Losing you.

And I know you aren’t lost. At most you can use the maps on your phone. To guide you to the nearest grocery store. Pick out a fresh new dozen.

I just want to say thank you, you’ve laid down the recipe, spoken it into existence, but I can’t find the spatula to take it off the burner.

What is left is stuck between my teeth, the taste of char replaces expectations of nourishment. It lingers as I am forced to swallow.

I know you were trying to minimize the pain. But the stove was on high and my arms are covered in burns.

I don’t love you any more. But I’m out of butter, and my toast is burnt.

I miss the way you made me breakfast. And how you loved me.