Bake your cake,
Look outside the window,
A sun is burning for you,
Impatiently hot,
"Ah, come on already. The cake!
I'm waiting, **** it!".

Look out of the other window,
That neighbour,
Her nostrils flared like a boar,
Mouth watering, eying your cake with her x-ray vision,
Like Superman .
Oh my, her ******* are *****,
Your cake has aroused her more than her husband, I think.

If you walk a few steps and look out of
The railings of your front gate,
The postman is standing with a letter for papa,
Arrested (probably handcuffed) by
The sweet smell of kaju and kismis in your cake,
The look in his eyes saying he wants to barge in,
Drop all his postmanship (his letters) and stuff
Himself with mouthfuls of your beautiful cake.

Go on now, bake your cake.
I'm waiting.
Heck, I even wrote a poem for it.

When the curtains are down and after the last spectator exits the door, I want you to come to my green room.
To watch me taking off the costumes and slowly leaving the actor behind.
To see the scars on my skin and cracks on my skull.
I want to touch your face with my bare hands, and hold you close unbothered by stage lights and change of scene.
I want to hold your hands, go places, read books and slow dance with you.
I want to hold the basket while you select our grocery and walk with you the entire shop to pick the eye liner of your choice.
I want to mop the house as you read out news paper to me and laugh with you at the stupid statuses our friends put on social media.
I want to stir the *** as you cut veggies and make Roties with you as watch YouTube for a recipe.
I want to mock at you when you stand in front of the mirror and feed you Kaju Katlie when you are in anger.
I want to wash the utensils and clean the table as we tell each other’s stories from our day.
On days we fight I want to be the one who break the silence, so I can see the smile on your face.
I want to pack your bag as you get late to your work, yet grab a quick kiss so that I can have you for one more moment before you go.  
I want to be with you under the blanket and learn to touch you the way you like.  
I want to take the red flag from you when your hands ache as we walk shouting slogans, and tell softly in your ears that we shall win, on days you look despaired and dejected.  
I want to walk with you all the way to metro station because you believe a little less CO2 can save the world.  
I want to place the pill on your tongue even when you resist, and take you to the doctor you trust most in the city.
I want to clean your bed pan and change your clothes and help you back to bed.
I want to wet wipe your body, tell you that you are **** when you curse yourself for your ill health.
There are much more things for me to do with you and for everyone we care for.
I no more want to act or see you in the audience.
All I need is to have you in the green room of my life.