Finding Breakfast

I love you being my being.
That is a hard thing 
for me to tell you.
It is a hard thing for me 
to look in the mirror
and tell you
I love you.
But I try to 
everyday
and sometimes I can.
but sometimes 
it comes out as 
a sigh,
or a cry
or a scream 
and a bruised hand
that takes days to heal.
It took days to heal over you.
More than I can count.
I used to count 
more than I do now
but the counting made my stomach
growl in anticipation.
Anticipation for the possibility
of it getting what it needed.
What I didn’t need.
I need nothing.
At least that’s 
what I got used to telling you.
Now I tell you to keep going.
So you keep going 
and normally our feet take us
where we want to go.
Where I want to go right now 
is starbucks
because it’s six in the morning
and coffee is what people
drink at six in the morning.
But our wallet says other wise
and instead I take my car to 
the grocery store.
At the grocery store 
I grab the essentials:
a gallon of coffee
and mozzarella cheese
and going home
I melt the cheese
on a rice cake and call it:
Breakfast.
And with a mug of iced coffee,
it goes down smoothly.

                        tessa juliane