I feel light when between your fingers,
as though you could shape me,
a clay made of meringue.
brushed into a delectable art that
melts on my senses
I take shape between your forgiving hands.
You give me reason to become more.
sculpting my perceptions
of what is:
my very own refined taste.
What is refined?
Moreso, what is taste?
scalded like an impatient tongue
for all it’s want.
Enveloped in the aroma
like a sweet cocoa thick in the air
in a place we can do no wrong,
we grew into something beautiful.
we’ve grown strong through tribulations.
our opposites unavoidably balance each other,
a bright resonation that can’t help but tip the scales.
A pitch so perfect it leaves silence,
a taste so complete it leaves nothing to guesswork.
I should know the smell and texture,
taste of you so completely
that it leaves us at a loss
of what to do with it but admire it as art.
molten together as a single
bright and glassy
that tastes of heat and cinders.