Crying in the Kitchen

[Disclaimer: for a heart-felt poem to a girl I care deeply about, stop reading after the ellipsis. For the twist that ruins it all, carry on]

When salted tears stream down your face,
I’ll gather them
For you’re my flower
Sifted and thrown about this world
Shaken but strong, defiant
You rose before
And rise now
And will rise again

Your laughter thrills me
A smile sweeter than sugar
and chocolate, but dark
with secrets and depths
I don’t yet know
And long to explore

Dreams ’til now unhatched
Eggs: ready
To make me and my heart melt
Like butter in your mouth
Or wrapped around your finger
Or kneaded by your hands
And moulded to your tastes

All these pieces of you, these fleeting moments
These ingredients, gathered up and pressed together
Make you my tough cookie

 

 

 

I deliver you this half-baked poem, and you smile a thin, grim smile
and tell me how apt my words are
when you’ve a bun in the oven

Damn metaphors.

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