Fondness

Thursday, and the clock’s ticking.

Tick and tock, so overdone,

so oversaid.

Silence,

so overrated,

so poetically cliché.

What is it that you want?

You look upon your chance,

and think of how you just don’t want it.

You just don’t feel like it.

As much energy as you put into it,

you’re so tired.

So, so tired.

So

tired.

Desire is fading,

and it’s somehow disappointing,

lamentable.

Desire faded, but fondness still there,

and you think this is what

desire ages to.

Static smooths over,

and buzzing turns to pastry.

Pastry chef of the liking,

of humans, hearts,

the one that rules your life.