the buns

the buns are cooked.
the buns are just there.
my mouth can’t resist.
my mouth can’t resist.
but the buns are there.
they are cooked so well.
but my mind suddenly
tells my heart not to
give in.

i am in total disappointment.
i am in total disappointment.

but the buns keep asking me,
“why not try?”

why not?
i ask myself,
“why not try
while the buns are
still hot?”

 

2016

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About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to the buns

  1. rebecca morales mendoza says:

    Because not all buns need to be tasted..

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