I’m waiting for my bacon.
Watching it sizzle against the iron.
But soon my mind wanders, a bad habit, I know.
I think about all the others
And the way they tell me what to
Feel. I think about him. My mind too often thinks of him.

It’s horrible to love someone. It is impossible not to love him,
Though. He is such a lovable kind. He doesn’t like bacon.
He is vegetarian. Or maybe he could never be vegetarian. I need to
remember what he says the way a stone remembers the iron
That a black smith pounds into it. Others
Listen better than me. I’m a dreamer and too often forget what I know.

I used to know
Him.
Really know him, too. Not just the way others
Do. I used to be able to see his soul. Now look at me, not even knowing if he likes bacon.
I watch my breakfast, bubbling in the iron
Pan. Is it ready yet? Only two

Minutes until school. This is too
Much. how long will they harass me? How long can they question what I know?
Before heartache splits me like an iron
Rod, beating me. His
Words used to feel like that. Ripping me like a hungry man tears apart a strip of bacon.
Now he comforts me, though. Unlike the others.

The others
Tell me I’m wrong, tell me I don’t know what I feel. I’m starting to
Believe them. A sputter comes from the bacon,
Dragging me back to reality. It isn’t finished so I go back to thinking. About what I know.
I know I love him.
Nothing else seems important. Not the square root of x or how you make iron

He has to be at least 100 times more important than iron.
He is more important than all the others.
More important than a good book or $1000 too.
I am wrong about a lot of things, I know.
But I have a good feeling about him.
I hear an unnatural pop from my bacon.

I scrape some burned bacon off the iron
Pan. It doesn’t look appetizing but what do I know? I’m just a girl trying to escape their
Too tight restrictions, trying to find a place in this world. For now I think I know, though. That
my place is simply with him.