Takeaway
Once a week was just right?
Greasy, slippery with fat
Forever too much but right regardless
And you’d finish me in the morning
I was your takeaway.
Unhealthy
But it felt good at first
And then daily?
Not so much. Weight was put on
And I was always the wreck,
The desperate one
I needed more because without you
I’d stagnate
Rot
Oh you still loved me but
Diet. You had to come first
Fair but,
I’d gone out of sorts
Out of business
You’ll find someone else I’m sure but
I’m just remains, in a box
Waiting for landfill
