Another poem…Why? Because I want to.

Batter

She made a cake late last night.
Marked with congratulations and his full name.
He's a part-time electrician with a birthday tomorrow morning.
With bright red frosting.
And angel food on the inside.

They met by dancing to old Willie Nelson songs.
At a party from a friend they both knew.
He dated her in college, while she was her best friend.
Fate sent out those laced, yellow, invitations.
On the dance floor they took turns spinning along

Exchanging numbers he called first.
He told her to meet him at a French café.
They talked of life between sandwiches and drinks.
Laughed at jokes without even time to think.
And she felt her pain submerge.

Months went by like the countdown to a meal.
A solitary girl with no boyfriends before.
Her heart used to be an anomy.
But the photo booth pictures eclipsed their joyous memories.
She felt that she was truly loved, that this was truly real.

One night though, things lost control.
Dinner wasn't ready when he got home from work.
This is where he ranted, raved, and struck her across the face.
A degrading measure of love's erase.
His fist collided with her soul.

When you bake a cake, you spin in the mixer.
You promised to have dessert, but only after dinner.
But when the yelling starts what does it really matter?
The bowl just gets thrown away along with the batter.

Happy Birthday written with a beautiful, sugared print.
She doesn't even know his favorite flavor.
Deep breaths, she took a chance.
Calling on the girl who only wanted to dance.
Affection could be valued on a simple dish.

He unlocked the door with one swift motion.
She attempted to give a hug and a kiss.
He brushed her off like dust.
Abandonment like a car to rust.
A relationship seemingly built on implosion.

The kitchen table was lit with two white candlesticks.
The cake made a magnificent centerpiece.
And her man grins like a child, like a fox.
And she listens to hear his heart unlock.
But no sound emits.

Wires are all he loves and hers have been severed.
From green to blue to red to black.
The connections are gone
She can't even remember their dancing song.
Like a sudden switch turned off, a busted lever.

He started by kicking the table over.
The candles and cake in mere ruins.
Another night of yelling starts.
A union now split into unequal parts.
The smell of his breath said he wasn't sober.

When you bake a cake you spin it in the mixer.
You wanted perfection that didn't deliver.
The oven could only produce a sweet disaster.
Lick the spoon and remove the batter.

She dressed up pretty last night.
And he's buried under a headstone that marked his full name.
Her blind date called back to have breakfast this morning.
He fell in love with her lips, like red frosting.
And with the girl who's an angel inside.

-D.E.-2008