Morning Breakfast With You

Nirzar Pangarkar
Nirzar Pangarkar

I cooked breakfast out of exhaustion
and humiliation.
I told you the aftertaste would be different
this time, if you eat with me.
But you shook your head telling me no
no
no
no.
You sit at my table
indifferent towards me and
my worn out kitchen cabinets.
I have no more food to offer you,
do you want some juice?
No
no
no, you can’t.
You sit. I clean.
I wipe the pan
and scrub the cups.
I don’t want your love;
don’t need your attention.
What happened to kindness,
chivalry?
I stand to eat my eggs on buttered toast –
spreading it as thin as it will let me –
and drink my coffee the way I’ll always take it
till the day I die –
black. [c-mark]

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