That One Time I Felt Like a Poet, or, a 213 Word Essay on Why We Are Incompatible

Nika

I’m the candle to your candle holder. Don’t know about that spark though.

 

I’m the charger to your overpriced iPhone. But I don’t know where to plug myself in. There is no power outlet in sight. I know I could have used my powerbank, but I left it at home, sorry.

 

I’m the seatbelt to your body. But you’re out of gas. You are not moving an inch. You don’t need saving, no point in keeping you safe then.

 

I’m the raw food to your pot. But you are not boiling because there is no water. This is so static. I have no idea what to do. I can’t eat raw fruit either as it gives me stomach aches.

 

I’m the toothbrush to your toothpaste. But there are no teeth. There is just a gaping hole. And darkness. Not gonna lie, it also smells kinda fishy.

 

I’m the coffee to your mug. I don’t need the sugar. I can even do without the milk. But where’s the spoon? Once I pour, I still gotta swirl it all together. Otherwise I can’t merge us. Melt us together.

 

I’m the frame to your puzzle. But there’s still a missing puzzle piece.

 

I pretend like I am in place when I am actually all over it.