Breakfast Blues

when my hands started shaking
feverishly this morning
as I tried to pick and choose
between the twin slice of breads
buttered and battered almost equally
I thought of you
dunking your spoon
in that repulsive bowl of oats
dunk, stir, eat
dunk, stir, eat
I remembered never having seen
you eat anything with passion.
anything but me.
And then it started again
the conflict in your eating habits
the clash between passion and nonchalance
sent my whole body
shaking from inside, again.
I imagined your lean frame
gymming diligently
every evening
to shed off any extra fat
I wonder what you do with your mind
to let any burden pass
like it was a whiff of wind
you keep talking of ghosts
raising their ugly heads
every now and then.
I see your ghost
doing crunches
with me sitting on its lap
kissing my cheek
with every rise from the bottom
mathematical. precise.
and I shake even more
like the daily morning oats
trying to stir some passion
in your disgusted bowl of life.


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