Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Impatient fingers

Rough hands, dry eyes
hollow echoes of laughter
i had been, i could have been
we had been we could have been
so much more and lesser too
hot bowls of maggie noodles
with onions tossed in butter
you never liked me cooking did you?
"i prefer you raw" you'd said
i used to melt faster than the butter
onions crackling beside the two of us
a drop of oil escapes the pan
searing down my bare back
and the ice you rubbed on the sore
burnt me all the more
"lets just order pizza" damn your impatient fingers
cold marble, hot breath and your impatient fingers.