The thing they don’t tell you
About getting your heart broken
Is that it doesn’t happen just once.
It happens a thousand times a day.
I see you in the small things.
When I make a pasta bake after a weekend away,
When I smell fresh-cracked black pepper,
When I go to watch Legally Blonde,
“What, like it’s hard?”
I see you when my mum does something weird, and I have nobody to tell it to
I see you when I can’t sleep, and it’s not your snoring I can blame it on
I see you when I crave fried eggs on toast.
You see, a thousand times a day, my eggshell of a heart shatters
I try to avoid egg puns,
You always hated my terrible yolks.
So, why am I making a pasta bake?
Why do I eat fried eggs on toast?
Why do I crack black pepper?
You tell me. I don’t know why.
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