Ellipses V

Unequal division of labour: I can’t do the dishes without getting my shirt wet
Like warm baked bread made on gusty summer mornings
I prefer to eat the rules rather than live by them

I feel a vastness of days when you’re not here as well
Each evening arriving, already flattened by someone else’s rolling pin

This feeling belongs on an island, tucked away
in the changeover space between tomorrow and today.

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