flapjacks

I saw a picture of you sitting at a table

with a second breakfast plate set

& it made me recollect how many flapjacks you stacked up in my tummy

to give the illusion you cared for me

& all the syrup you tipped down my throat

hoping it’d stick my vocal chords together & vibrate no more

because all you wanted was silence, silence, silence

& I could never lower my volume

or hold my mouth closed except when eating or kissing

& the kisses just became too much for you to swallow because your belly was full

& all you could do was feed, feed, feed

& all I could do was eat, eat, eat

& weep, weep, weep

that there are no blueberries in the pancakes or a chocolate chip smiley face

& that no amount of breakfast plates form home.