As if to say
As if to say I never mattered
The syrup forms in a puddle in my fridge
The toppled jars inside the side compartment
And the sludge that built up from too many lazy Saturdays
I never saw you put the trashbag back into the container
And you never picked up what was overturned
Sticky messes all over our kitchen and a sticky mess inside my heart
Neglect
Neglect
And the others wanted pancakes with syrup
I just want syrup to be anywhere but all over the shelves
That wobble and teeter
On precarious pegs that need to be replaced
The mustard that isn’t liquid anymore
The cheese that I thought would make me feel like I have left this humid hell I live in
The margarine, misshapen and with a battered cover
And no one will come if I don’t clean up
The nasty reminders of all the things I was too busy to do
Fantasy
Fantasy
That a man will come into my life
And clean the dirty shelves
And restock the elements of a kitchen that doesn’t have a cook
Nor forks and spoons that match
With chipped dishes
And foggy glasses
From brutal encounters with the heating elements in my dishwasher
And I sit in front of the open fridge
Wishing it were cleaner
Wishing I had the energy to wipe it down
And throw away all the things I never use or grew tired of
And soften the hardened messes in her body, the center of my kitchen
Because I am like her, working but messy
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