All the Untitled Ones

The words that don’t come together
Smell like the freshly-baked buns
That you can’t eat
Because the scale glares back at you;
The bread sits in the oven
Like the Instagram coquette in the red skimpy boots,
Her shiny skin on the golden sand,
Captioning a tiny moment,
No me acuerdo.
She artfully rolls,
Giving you a glimpse of her light bosom
That must smell
Like the freshly-baked buns in your oven.
No me acuerdo,
But you remember.

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