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The perfect amount of salt
It dissolves in my mouth
Melting on my pancakes
Complimented with sugary flakes
Dipped in syrupy lakes
My fruit salad with grapes
Bananas and apples too
It's too yummy to be true
While butter is still melting
I dig in, it tastes overwhelming
Thomas W Case Mar 10
Once I began to get heathy,
I cut out all the junk food,
and saturated fats.
No more bacon and eggs for me.
I added fruits and vegetables
to my diet.
I exercise, and I pound
****** Mary's  from 6 am to noon.
The tomato juice is very healthy.
asg Mar 7
spend the night sober and wake
up drunk, tangled in legs and sheets
giggle at his snoring until he
rolls over.

nuzzle that sharp point of his nose
and mumble words of
affirmation, breath warm and tingling,
raises the peach fuzz on ears.

get up and go to the kitchen
house shoes and robes? maybe it's
nice enough to open a window
or two, and you might burn the bacon so.

argue over who cooks. start grabbing
things out of the fridge: jam, eggs, butter
that's non dairy, and cheese that isn't
cause it just doesn't taste the same.

hold hands, place fingers on nape
of neck, squeeze, rub the small of his
back, tease his lips open for a taste
just a taste, maybe take a break in the foyer

get out two plates.
One day I heard her say:

“I have a dreamy kitchen.”

I pictured pots and pans hanging above

an old-fashioned stove, a light blue and white checkered

tablecloth on a wooden table for two.

And the morning frost beyond the kitchen door,

not reaching the warmth of her ears

from the night’s sleep.

I wondered:

What does she have for breakfast?

Does she make herself two sunny side-up eggs?

Is she too busy for eggs?

Perhaps she only eats yogurt before darting out the door.

You were always darting, not quite rushing,

but too fast for me to say hello.
blemishes borne by blueberries,
beautiful baby bruisings
lex Dec 2020
slow mornings are my favorite
for i can simply stare out the window,
drink coffee,
and think.

whether it be cloudy or sunny,
it's always nice to bask in the low light.
the sun streams through the window with an orange glow and i wish nothing but to stand in it forever
Kat Schaefer Dec 2020
Do you remember Sunday mornings
When you told me how much
You loved the way I said “I love you”
You said it reminded you of
The marmalade your mother made
Which you spread on toast
Every morning for breakfast

You always found comfort
In a morning routine
Until you turned 17
When you no longer
Could stomach the sweetness
I guess like breakfast
You grew tired of me

Do you remember Friday evenings
When we drank captain and coke
And you told me how my presence
Reminded you of Christmas in 2003
The last yule you spent with your parents
Where there were cookies and presents
And not a single hint of your father’s affair

I guess it is true what they say
Like father, like son
Much like you, I no longer
Grow eager for Santa or sleigh bells
Instead I remember Christmas of 2019
When you said that you could never
Love someone as pathetic as me
Caage Gaber Dec 2020
Bitter tasting sip
Or a sweet and creamy glaze.
Black cup or cool whip?
I'm not a big fan of dark coffee. I'm the kind of person who has coffee with his sugar
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