Expired Ingredients

To You This MAY Concern,

Lately I’ve been,
Thinking about you.
I’ve been thinking about him.
And how the two of you won’t do for me.
And although, you two.
The two of you never existed,
Substantially together,
I dedicate this to you,
The two.

Engulfed by the madness,
Of what is life.
You have sidled yourself,
To my pan,
Burned into my peace,
Soaking up my grease.
You leased me.

To the point,
Where I find it hard to,
Consume my portion,
Without you,
All up in it.

However,
You say what you don’t mean,
And mean what you don’t say.
This confuses me.
Yes,
This,
Confuses Me.

Although it eats like a meal,
And it tastes like a meal,
It must be a meal?
But certainly is not the meal for me.
A bit grainy,
And too true to form.
While my tongue yearns for the,
Exotic,
The cultured,
And sometimes even the hometown Gyro.

You have that,
Unwavering taste,
As if mom and dad,
Were scared to try something new,
A little sugar perhaps,
Or maybe sincerity,
A jalapeno,
Would have been too spicy,
But some seasoning salt, and
Paprika might do.
Or maybe they should have
Spiced in some,
Bouillon,
A base.
At least something,
That can be worked with,
Instead,
Just Flour.

Broths,
We can work with.
But it seems,
They wanted you in their mold.
They taught you of marriage everlasting,
Although theirs never lasted.
Of love unrequited,
When they’d already
Quit it.
Of the mate,
Who hangs onto your every word.
But it was they who never learned,
That opposites do attract,
And YES,
Satisfaction,
Will always bring them back,
Even just for static.
It won’t stop you.

So for you brother,
You it may concern,
I hope that your lover,
Or other,
You seek,
Is everything that,
Mom and pop wanted you to
Keep.
And for your sake,
I hope that it’s real
And I hope that it's true,
Because lap dogs,
Can be picked up
Just about anywhere,
A latchkey woman
Of only superficial beaut,
Is only that,
Superficial,
And beaut.
But looks go away.
And usually do,
But then what is left,
You’ll be back where you started,
Or rather back where we finished,
With a walnut shell of a mate,
Who will skip out on YOU.

Yes,
to you this may,
Concern.