Burnt Toast
written by: Angie Brocker
@angie_brocker
“Good Morning,” she stated with no inflection or intention behind her words
Her hope remained hidden where it could grow without judgment
She hated slimy over-easy eggs and toast teetering on the edge of being burnt
But there was a fine line
She wouldn’t dream of crossing
“Good Morning,” he wished his lovely wife each day
As he kissed her cheek and grazed her hair with his strong hand
He felt her flinch slightly, apologized and sat down to enjoy
His eggs and toast, which tasted slightly more burned than usual
Smiling with his crooked grin, he ate the labors of his wife
Grateful she had tried
Each morning he left their home while she remained
In the dreadful house covered up with beautiful trinkets and intricate paintings
One day he came home and found her gone
Searching never did any good as she would never be found
He eventually put away the pretty decorations because they weren’t his style
Taking down colorful pictures, he discovered holes in the walls
Left by dainty angry hands full of hidden rage
Created by anger and left in haste
Still, even with imperfect walls, the man found the rooms full of light and promise.
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