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