IT WAS NEVER ABOUT THE WAFFLES

by Owen Lindley

Three waffles growing cold; after all this

time—that's what I remember first about

the day you told me that I never made you waffles;

the day I saw your face, and the way it changed;

the day you went upstairs to pack a bag; the day I

went downstairs to the kitchen and burnt three; the

day I made you your favorite food for the first time;

the day I told you that I knew it was never about the

waffles, but it was a start; the day you choked back

tears and said that it was, but a beginning and an

ending couldn't occupy the same space, and you

had already chosen which this was going to be;