cooking with heartache, words

up early making breakfast

fried potatoes because maia has something against eggs

scrambled eggs with spinach for dax because he hasn’t developed a thing yet

made them bacon

and now as the potatoes rumble in the bacon grease

as food smells fill the air and stir them from sleep

i have had my headphones in

dancing about the kitchen

enjoying my time of usefulness

singing along with my sunday morning heartache playlist

sunday mornings are for heartache

for remembering

i have a song for every time my heart was broken

and they play on quiet mornings like this

as the bacon grease burns my hand as it pops and snaps

i think of being a child

the hours of learning to cook

making a roux, seasoning to taste not some silly instruction

black coffee and the list of almosts

could have been

might have

the ones i danced cheek to cheek with, made sweet love to, fought with, made empty promises with

the ones i imagined would last forever

and they do

not how i thought

but they do

i’m just a man by faith no more goes out to the first

listened to this on repeat for weeks after you decided to leave

bosstones for another

hippos wasting my life

a little tim mcgraw indian outlaw for my brief infatuation with her and country

the list is longer than i expect

and not altogether pleasant at times

but i’m just killing time until the food is done and kids stumble out

wondering if there will ever be another song added to the rotation

or if there will be another mark etched on my heart period

dancing in socks and my misfits tee

cooking and smiling with a hint of hurt

sundays are for philosophy and introspection

they suit me fine

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