it was like
a stack of pancakes
drizzled
with real maple syrup
a pat of butter
running down the side
with the face
of a sad clown
in the nooks and crannies
that made the whole thing
taste like batteries

thats what
sitting alone on the couch
missing you is like

a wilted flower
hanging sadly in a vase
with stale water
that smells
like it was rung
from a dirty sock

i don’t have
the temperament
for life
without you

everything is sterile
like an operating room
where every patient
has died on the table
yet they keep
rolling in some poor sucker
with a sore arm
to sacrifice
to ineptitude