THE BREAKFAST

I like when you say silly things,
when you mess up, when you lie,
when you go shopping with your mother
and I’m late to the movies because of you.
I like you more when it’s my birthday
and you cover me with kisses and cakes,
or when you are happy and it shows,
or when you’re great with a phrase
that sums it up, or when you laugh
(your laughter is a shower in hell)
or when you’ll excuse me for forgetting something.
But still, I like you more, so that
I can hardly resist what I like you
when you, so alive, you wake up
and the first thing you do is say,
“I have a ferocious hunger this morning.
I am going start you with you… my breakfast”