i feel stretched, butter that's been spread over too much bread. i dont taste like butter anymore, i taste of bread, i taste of scone, i taste of whatever i am melded to at that moment. but i do not have a taste of my own. i have no identity, except that of which i am attatched to. no-one likes butter on its own, but toast and scones have their own flavour and are just as good without me.
lots of people give up butter. its healthier without me. and they don't miss me. they realise that life without me can be just as fulfilling as life with me.
everyone knows that too much butter is bad for you. so everyone cuts down on the butter and goes for a healthier option, like margerine.
the butter stays in the tub. its cold in the fridge. i don't melt. i dont deteriorate. i just am. but without the scone or the bread i am nothing.
one day you see me at the back of the fridge. the light blinds my eyes. for those first few seconds i'm hopeful.
you reach in, touch me, consider me.....then you see the jam, take it, and shut the door.
no-one likes butter anymore. i'm outdated, irrelevant and waiting for someone to throw me in the bin.
