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Promised Staples
The trees sing in the spring breeze, paths cross, and they fall like teens, moons pass, someone's on their knee. One is woken up by breakfast, one gets a bouquet of irises. Years proceed, and that's how it's been, Then one day it just happened. The vase is empty, no breakfast in bed.
No one delivers the promised staples, silence thickens the air at the table. Still fallen like teens from when they crossed paths, but now that one knee seems like the wrong track. No one delivers the promised staples, irises don't grow on roadsides, it's easy to make your own waffles, moons pass, and rings are thrown in fires.
Table for one within tables of two, Side eyes and scoffs all around the room. A red-dressed brunette asks when they'll arrive, lone dinner's not proper for Friday nights. Some suit asks the big question, of course they'd say yes to heaven. Tonight's the start of the honeymoon phase, One morning, that lavender haze will fade.
No one out there gave birth to your soulmate. That's a frame you create fresh from the grain. Some friends do kiss, skin to skin, in one bed, a picnic with your grandparents instead. A yes to a ring is not ultimate. Wear that backless top for your bestie, split the rent with your favourite cousin. I'd pick my siblings over a wedding.
I crave to craft bouquets, for those my cheeks flush pink. If they refuse a new page, well, then I'm bolting. My long-distance friend, I love her to death, we both take our time, checking if the other's still alive. So, future 4 am texts, better have patience for breakfast.
Delivering staples, and soulmates, both skunk musk that envelop romance. My crush may never gleam at my bouquet, but adorn a few for my aunts, I can. Might finally get one for myself.
The trees sing in the gentle spring wind, paths meet, and they fall like teenagers, moons go by, someone proposes. One wakes up to breakfast, another gets a bunch of irises. Years go by, and that's how it's been, Then suddenly it changed. The vase is empty, no breakfast in bed.
No one brings the promised basics, silence fills the air at the table. Still fallen like teenagers from when they met, but now that proposal seems wrong. No one brings the promised basics, irises don't grow by the road, it's easy to make your own waffles, moons go by, and rings are thrown into fires.
A table for one among tables for two, Judgmental looks and whispers fill the room. A woman in red asks when they'll arrive, eating alone isn't right for Friday nights. Someone in a suit asks the big question, naturally, they'd say yes to happiness. Tonight starts the honeymoon phase, One day, that dreamy feeling will fade.
No one was born as your perfect partner. That's something you create from scratch. Some friends share a bed, or have a picnic with grandparents instead. Saying yes to a ring isn't everything. Wear that revealing top for your friend, share rent with your favorite cousin. I'd choose my siblings over a wedding.
I want to make bouquets, for those who make me blush. If they don't want to start fresh, then I'm leaving. My faraway friend, I love her dearly, we both take our time, making sure the other is okay. So, future late-night texts, be patient for breakfast.
Bringing basics and soulmates, both are illusions that surround romance. My crush may never notice my bouquet, but I can make some for my aunts. I might finally get one for myself.