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lackadaisical croissants and lovers
there were golden flakes of the croissant
he’d been eating
all across the crotch region of his jeans
i shook my head when he lifted his eyes
from his plate
he was always careless when he ate
with a quick motion of his hand
he brushed the flakes to the floor
i ended up sweeping them to the waste basket
the weary night he told me he was moving out
he left me like neglected bread crumbs
so i could piece myself together till i realized
he’d always been messy
from the start
but i was used to cleaning up after him
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A little piece dedicated to my long-time readers. Inspired by a coworker discussing his croissant breakfast sandwhich.