Breakfast, For One. Poem by James Enoch

I dream of you, it's a pain to awaken.
I grab the eggs then I grab the bacon.
I grab a pot then I grab a pan.
Just to imagine, i'm grabbing your hand.
I reach for the milk, high on the shelf.
I cook for you, and no one else.

I grab the bread and I grab the butter.
All to serve you, in bed, under covers.
I feed you slowly, I kiss you the same.
If only this was real, damn you my brain.

I clean the glass and I clean the plate.
I think of my past and I clean my slate.
It's time I stop being stuck in the past.
I clean my hands of this romance.