The letters were scribbled on rubbish.
They left their farewell on the back of the receipt.
Oil absorbed through it creating the mark of
Unavoidable interruptions in our long conversations.
The night we decided to talk was at the pub down the street.
Water droplets and old crumbs were on our table.
We wiped them away with a napkin we found nearby.
It was still greasy, but we settled anyway.
How many hours, I wonder, did we waste?
When we tried to balance the check of this relationship.
It’s not easy to split the portion evenly, as we both remembered.
It’s moot to add, subtract, multiply and divide.
What did I provide to you, my beloved?
A deep comfort kind of feeling only I can deliver
Or just a craving you needed to satiate?