one fork or two?

I was never good
at waiting for
spilled compliments and answers
lapping them up instead
stealthily, silently.
When you were not looking
prying them from you
tugging at your upturned corners;
looking for the scraps of a smile
rummaging
for some shallow love.
for all that
deep breathing and closed eyes
i was never good at waiting for
measured assurances and weighed concerns
may they explode
and blow me away
the early bird.
my wary worm is too slow
too quiet
too calm
(and i like to go with a bang.)
I shall huddle in anticipation
I will wait for the morsels that you dropped
and devour them greedily
dressed as i am in silks
i will not succumb
to your lights
to your peace
you will turn
to ask
politely as a prince
(or it is punctuality?)
if it is one lump or two
( the irony, the irony)
but the tongs are holding me hostage.
now more then ever.
will you pass
me the
sugar, please?