No Next Time

Funny how the little things take me by surprise. When you’ve broken it off cos you know you should but you don’t entirely want to. Bedtime and instead of going to bed, I go to the kitchen to feed my hunger. Except I’m not hungry. I’m tempted to have another glass of wine but I know I should not open a bottle, it’s late, I must go to bed; else tomorrow will be as bad as today. But I need something. I open the fridge. What little treat would assuage this need, this need for one more something before bed? Slice of cheese will do, that won’t be too indulgent. I take the cheese out of the fridge, open the cutlery drawer and that’s when it pricks me. He saw me looking for the cheese slicer the other day and said, I keep meaning to ask you where it’s kept, I can never find it. I showed him the drawer where it’s kept for next time. Now of course there will be no next time.

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Burnt Offering

Fight through those clouds
Glare down on me
Pour liquid love into my veins of ice

I do not shiver
that requires a relationship between warmth and hate

I do not shiver
Nor do I freeze
I am a solid pillar of coldness

Pierce me with rays of heat
Melt me down…melt me into golden bars
Make sure I do not burn.

No charcoal lover will I be
no burnt toast for me
Do not bother scraping off the burnt bits
or sweeping away the black crumbs
Throw away the entire burnt offering.

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