Baking a cake always sounds like a good idea
At first
Until everyone catches wind
And you end up with nothing but crumbs
For yourself
We spend hours preparing
Finding the perfect recipe, and collecting ingredients
Measuring everything to a tee
Yet more times than not
When I turn on the oven
Pop her in and walk away,
I come back to the smell of burning batter
And a cake as solid as a boulder
But on the off chance
That you get it just right
Where the outside is golden like the sun
And the inside is as soft and warm as a new blanket
You must offer a piece, to everyone else
But they’ll never know
How many failed attempts sit on your countertop at home
Awaiting their disposal
