Saving The Last Piece of Cake

By Diksha Mishra

I always save the last piece of cake

                                            for you—

                        so you’d never notice

             how I had already eaten

most of it before you knew.

Folding my hunger for more,

I offer it as generosity,

  laying my selfish longing

before you—

to be loved

         without question,

                           wrapped

                              in the quiet illusion

                         of loving you

          without a qualm,

selflessly.

Buttering your toast—

            the only thing I do

               on warm Monday mornings,

                                     fingers sticky

                         with sweet effort.

           I wiggle them

before you,

                hoping          

        you’ll hand me

                                the first bite of it.

                    The very act of loving—

           an art so inherently

self-serving.                                               

Ensuring that every whispered

                                   "I love you"    

        echoes in your ear, a plea—

Love be back instead.

By Diksha Mishra