taste buds.

You have me brewing as if your favourite dish you can’t help but cook but never end up eating.

I will not be the love you have sitting on the back burner, slowly cooking, browning and it’s fragrance evaporating second by second but forever overlooked, forever overcooked and eventually forgotten.

This mess of a dish will be enjoyed by someone who will appreciate my inability to be some days. My penny short thoughts, and my endless love.

I climb off the back burner, get dressed and think,

someday… someone… will love this, again.

Any Thoughts?

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