Eggs

It took someone else for you to leave him

I’m happy for you, really I am

But who are you when you’re singular

Not paired off to every opportunity

How do you like your eggs in the morning?

Are you poached?

Solid and reliable, pleasing on the eye

Or scrambled?

A mess, can’t tell up from down

Go with anything at any time

I’m not judging you, really I’m not

I’m pleased you found a slice of happiness

But they all seem to leave you in the end

And you don’t know who you are

I worry, that’s all.

Little Ginge x

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