‘Pizza’

The way I feel about you is the way I feel about pizza.                                                                           You’re lovely when you’re hot
but so much better when you’ve gone cold.

When you shut someone down,
a cool remark,
an icy glare.

It makes me want you ever more.

You’re round and bready, but I’d still eat you after 6pm.                                                                 You come in a variety of flavours, depending on mood.

If you get left out, outside of my attention, you curl up, harden, go a bit crusty.

You feed my hunger yet make me thirsty.
You speak directly to my base desires: Italian, crispy, stuffed crust.

Kept on my toes with your diverse choice of topics.

Pineapple’s probably my favourite.

This poem was supposed to be about love, but I guess I was just hungry.

 

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