Leftovers

LEFTOVERS

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Nobody wanted me fresh, just when it’s easy—

Cold on the edges, clingfilm dreams, see?

You tasted better when you left me alone,

Now I’m stewin’ in silence, reheated and grown.

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I’m not bitter—just microwaved love,

Served too late, never warm enough.

You missed the best bite, now I’m crusted and curled—

But baby, I still taste like the end of your world.

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I’m your leftovers—forgotten on shelves,

You only want me when you’ve got nothin’ else.

Cold pasta heart in a plastic plate,

Best-before gone, but still served fate.

Yeah, you threw me out, now you crave the taste—

But I’ve spoiled, babe—too late.

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You called it timing, I called it mold,

I waited in fridges, I waited in cold.

Your appetite’s a cycle—love then ghost,

But I ain’t dessert, I ain’t your ghost toast.

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I’m not bitter—but I’m seasoned in pain,

A dash of regret, leftovers again.

You scrape the foil like I’m still your fix,

But baby, I’m done being reheated tricks.

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I’m your leftovers—forgotten on shelves,

You only want me when you’ve got nothin’ else.

Cold pasta heart in a plastic plate,

Best-before gone, but still served fate.

Yeah, you threw me out, now you crave the taste—

But I’ve spoiled, babe—too late.

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Don’t plate me pretty when you need comfort food,

I was five-star served—now I’m done with you.

Let some other fool eat your lies on a tray,

I’m tossed, bossed, and outta your buffet.

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I’m your leftovers—half-loved, half-true,

I gave you my heat, you gave me the flu.

Cold pasta girl with a fire you missed,

Now I dine alone—and I don’t reminisce.

No more scraps, no more "what if"s—

I’m the dish you regret...

With a side of “forget.”