Cooking Is Like Life
Author: Bench


Tears spill out
Of my eyes
As I minced the onions.
I remember the day
I cried when
You said no.

I smashed the garlic
On the counter
With my open palm.
I remember the day
When you slapped me hard
And you destroyed me.

The meats lay
Bloodied on the
Cutting board.
This must be how
My heart looked like
When you ripped me apart.

The tomatoes have been
Taken out of the can
And sliced and diced.
I remember the can of worms
You opened and exposed
That day you hurt me.

The pasta now sits
In the boiling water
Cooked al dente.
I remember how my blood boiled
As I imagined you
Being with another.

And now I put all
The ingredients together
And the face grimaced
At the bad taste
Just like how bitter
My life is right now.


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