I Used To Call Her Muffin, But Now She’s Just Stale Bread To Me

 

There was a time when our love was new,

When we swore to each other we would always be true,

But our hearts turned cold and bitter, like old coffee in a cup,

And we didn’t make the effort to try and warm things up.

 

I used to call her Muffin, but now she’s just stale bread to me.

It all feel apart in the kitchen, and the bedroom couldn’t patch it up.

We were everything to each other except lovers and friends.

It wasn’t meant to be.

I used to call her Muffin, but now she’s just stale bread to me.

 

As relationships go, ours went.

I knew it was over the day she told me to “get bent.”

What once was a loving tone,

Now chilled me straight to the bone.

I tried, I swear, but I just didn’t care.

 

I used to call her Muffin, but now she’s just stale bread to me.

I woke up and smelled the burning toast,

It was no longer her I loved the most.

I didn’t have it in me to go the distance,

What seemed like eternity was over in an instant.

I used to call her Muffin, but now she’s just stale bread to me.

 

So my advice, my friends, for those self-absorbed like me,

Is to avoid the Muffins of the world, and go with the bagels,

Or the donuts,

Or even the French Toast.

Because Muffins, be they blueberry, corn or bran,

Won’t fulfill your emotional fiber needs,

If you’re more attracted to the cream in your coffee.

 

-- By R. A. Melos

copyright 2005

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