The tale of my solitary life
is told in meals eaten
at the kitchen counter,
sometimes off the cutting board
Single serve containers of
left overs in my freezer
How does one cook
dinner for one
The half bottle of red
in the door of the fridge
only good for a stew now
Always navigating the
the best before date
usually extending beyond it
because it is after all
just a suggestion
There are the tales of my solitary life
As is the decandence
of doing as I please
Basking undisturbed in the
peaceful silence that I treasure so
Or a kitchen dance party
with my favourite song on repeat
A schedule defined only
by my own needs and wants
Skipping dinner altogether
or indulging in a lavish splurge
Whatever I choose
Is mine to be had
These are the tales of my solitary life