You scored our initials in your sourdough It was sweet watching them crisp as they baked The edges going golden in the heat As the fragrance of romance and bread filled the house My mouth watered as you opened the oven The loaf pressed into a heart-shaped mass Warm butter and jam on a baker’s wet dream That burned most pleasurably as it went down But once again I wake up to disappointment You’ve left the bread out to get hard Uncovered, bare crust to the elements It’s no longer the masterpiece you had created One time, and I might understand it Mistakes happen, just not every day Another rock solid loaf in the garbage Scraped like it held no meaning at all Yet here I see you in the kitchen again Scoring our initials into your dough I stop my nose to avoid the addiction I know exactly how this is going to go