Burnt Toast

— a quiet ode to imperfect life... err, mornings !!

It happened again !
The toast burnt.....
Not terribly burnt—just enough.

Enough to make me sigh.
Enough to remind my failure,
even when you try.

 I didn’t forget.
I was standing right there.
I watched the toaster,
waited for the click

with watchful eyes !
And still—

 the smell came first
a familiar bitterness
Like something once warm, turned harsh

still trying to be what it was meant to be

and carrying the brunts of what life threw at it..................!

 I scraped the edges—
slow, absent-minded strokes with the back of a knife
Black crumbs scattered across the counter
like the pieces of thoughts I didn’t finish last night !

 The toast was meant to be simple.
A small comfort

An escape from hunger
And somehow,
it slipped away.....

 I still buttered it,
carefully—like maybe if I was gentle now,
it would forgive me.

And I ate it.
Didn’t make another.
Didn’t throw it out.

I accepted what’s burnt.
chewing through the bitterness

bite after bite

loaded with salted deceptive layer………..

Starting over was heavier
than swallowing what I had....

It’s just a toast

Goddamnit !!!

It ruined

It didn’t hold.
Every word that came out wrong.
Every effort that wasn’t enough…

 I asked some so called experts

And they said

“YOU better be careful !”

 Maybe tomorrow I’ll watch more closely.
Maybe I’ll pull it out in time.
Maybe the toast will be golden,
just the way I like it.

And maybe it won’t.

But either way,
I’ll still eat …….

And carry on…………

Oh Shit!! I had noodles on gas………….