or,
The Tale of Wanting It All

I walked with Kate through park-lit moons,
she spoke in stars and silver spoons.
By morning light, came Edith’s call,
her voice a breeze, her laugh, a squall.

Two hearts aligned in different hues,
one wore red, one sang the blues.
I tried to juggle flame and mist,
with every touch, a love I missed.

Kate brought joy, a sugar glaze,
her kiss, a rush, her smile a daze.
Edith offered deeper spice,
with wit that cut and warmth precise.

But soon, the clocks began to squeal,
truth peeled back my furtive zeal.
For secrets have a bitter crust,
and tales like mine outgrow their lust.

Then came the reckoning, swift and neat:
You want Kate and Edith? That’s “Cake” and “Eat…”
My conscience baked me in its pan,
you can't have both, my fickle man.

So now I sit, a fork in hand,
alone beside love’s reprimand,
A lesson carved in candied rue:
You can't have Kate and Edith too.