What you put on your plate

I brought you

freshly baked cookies,

again, when I saw you,

and you took them.

Thanked me.

Smiled.

.

Afterwards,

you pushed me away

with silence and

sparse words

magnified each time

by the number of minutes

between text messages,

every hour stating

more definitively

that you can manage

alone without me.

.

I’m just cookies

straight from the bag,

devoured on the spot.

Empty calories,

not worth the trade-off

of the other choices you picked

to fill up your plate.

.

Suggestion for a prompt from a friend…write about love and the subject line of the third junk mail in your inbox. :-). It was “stop filling your plate with empty calories’.