Everything But The Kitchen Sink

I don't want to write about colanders
Or the way you poured yourself through me
And left nothing 
but the gritty bits and pieces of your chauvinistic apathy
Drying
In my sun

I don't want to write about ice trays
Or the way you cordoned off my heart 
And left it in the back of the freezer 
With the vodka and the vegetables
From last years garden
Too burned now
To ever be any good 

I don't want to write about Tupperware
Or how I was your leftovers
Microwaved
From time to time
And how you never seemed to find the right lid for me

I don't want to write about can openers
And how they spin and spin and get stuck half way through
And all that's left when they are done
Are jagged edges
That can cut you

I don't want to write about steak knives
Or the cold tiled floor
Or the speck of blood that won't come off the grout
Or the leaky faucet that won't stop dripping
Like these words out of my mixed up mind 
mauled with manipulations
Melancholy metaphors 
Maddening matriculation
I don't want to write about alliteration 

And how everything always starts the same 
With me standing in the kitchen
And you saying I'm to blame...