love note on a half-eaten casket of moldy strawberry muffins
made you strawberry muffins. thought you might like as you liked things I made with my hands. thought you might like my hands. soft. underbaked and untouched. made new recipe for you. first time. golden tops. lined with tins. as pretty as they are delicious.
soaked your milky draft through the kitchen window and let the extract soak long enough to make them smile. flavor. sour. sifted flour on a breakfast platter for all purposes. salted to taste. sugared my legs to make them stronger. made the strawberries sweeter. maybe you’d stay longer.
made a mess in the process. thought you might like the thought of me making a mess. thought you would like me more if I asked for less. you could like me more. pulled out toothpick and still you were raw. was battered. old muffin tin. what you put me in. what you put in me. made these mostly for you to hold my life in your hands. try. maybe you’d like it. maybe you’d like them. maybe even love. sip me slow with lips like hot tea. remember me. blessed you with muffins. blessed you with muffins, remember? please don’t let me make you muffins. I am tired. it’s not even strawberry season.