Sometimes it’s strange to know a person so well but not at all
I never noticed
That you were eating out of my bowl
this
whole
time.
How did I miss the secondary scrape of spoon?
Was my own chewing too loud?
Perhaps lost only in my selfish swirling thoughts.
I thought you had your own bowl.
And maybe you did, and somehow the contents were more rancid than mine?
Not possible
But maybe
Possible
If I’d known, I’d have made you another bowl
Kindling and kiln and cereal and milk and all
I wish I could’ve made you another bowl