Spilled Milk
Spilled Milk milk stories

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People show love in different ways

Spilled Milk

People show love in different ways

A note on the bathroom door

An extra brownie in your lunch box

Starting the car on a cold morning

For her, it was in her food

She cooked her emotions into her food the way most chefs add salt

You could taste them clearly in every bite, connecting your tastebuds to your heart

If she was happy the steak melted on your tongue

If she was sad the soup made a tear glisten in your eye

But when she was in love with me

Every bite sang in my mouth

She made my favorites every night

(Don't tell my mom, but her lasagna was even better than hers)

Life was good

But one day, the bread wasn't so fluffy

It held a melancholy note that I'd never tasted before

I asked what was wrong, but she didn't seem to have the words to explain what she was feeling

So I let it go

That was my mistake

Day by day, she started to crumble

And so did her pies

She went from a wonder, dancing in the kitchen and licking the spoon

To a hollow shell, serving lukewarm pasta that left you unsettled

I excused her behavior

I was busy, she was stressed

The food was only cold because I was so late to the table

I didn't realize it wasn't dinner I was neglecting

It was her

If I could change one moment in my life, it'd be that night

The one when she was finally feeling up to baking again

We'd had some time together, and she hummed a bit as she stirred the batter

But then she stumbled, and dropped the glass measuring cup of milk she'd been carrying

It was bitter irony seeing the woman I loved,

The light of my life,

Crying over spilled milk

That would be the moment I'd change

I'd catch her wrist and hold her up

Just like I'd always promised I would

I wouldn't fail her, if I had another chance

Our kitchen is quiet these days

There's a thick layer of dust over everything except the microwave

And around the edges of the room are tiny bits of glass

Glistening like diamonds,

Or unshed tears,

Abandoned like me.

But I can't complain

After all, I abandoned her first

I should have read the recipe

I should have realized she was breaking

I didn't see it at first

But every bite held a piece of her suicide note

If only I'd tasted it before it was too late

Now she's gone

My heart's as broken as that measuring cup

And I'm the one crying over spilled milk.

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