Cake-up at Break-up

Donuts, dipped and sprinkled in milk, white and dark
puff pastries and croissants filled with hazelnut bark
burying the pain of each caustic remark,
the pinch of your words remains your bloody trademark.

Mint ice-cream left out for a minute or two,
whipping cream straight from the nozzle will do.
When I’m choking my tears back I don’t want to chew
these feelings entrapped in a foamy home brew.

Spaghetti and bagels - please - with lox and smoked ham.
Biscuits with butter and strawberry jam.
The finest of flavours post ‘shipping demise
stuffing down all of your arrogant lies!

I’m swimming in Malbec drunk on gluten and grief
with the innocence of a newborn, the precision of a thief.
The cupboards now empty less some ketchup and crumb
My stomach distended; my memories, numb.

The kitchen so ransacked portrays what is true
I’m through five days of sorrow, six without you.
One day you’ll regret how and when you withdrew
I’ll be here

baking batches of burnt bread for you.