
My heart, could be a million miles, but my soul would still know, the sweet scent of love’s essence, it’s baked in. Its fragrance, its aroma, the beauty of its substance, makes the heart prance. Love taking its stance, forever to enhance. I could find a thousand things, to display my intrinsic qualities. But, if love isn’t the main baked in ingredient, how would it truly profit my soul? They say, you have to break a few eggs, to make an omelette. But my heart says, if the reasoning was scrambled, with what would the conception be seasoned? The infilling of my soul, requires the accompanying flavor therein to be whole… hearted. Love as leftovers, therefore cold, and tasteless. My demeanor, overwhelmingly, to be sweet, salty at times, but never indifferent, love deeply baked in. My, brown sugared sweetness, a little pinch of her love hurled, goldenly baked into my soul. Her sugar, her spice, it’s everything nice, stolen love’s heist. Cinnamon’s savor, gingered flavor, carbonized in my love’s elasticity, baked sweet bread, roses are red… All-purposed love, flowery in its totality. Pure and milky, warm and silky; baked in vanilla extract, sprinkled cocoa powder, dripped pasteurized honey. Its take, what heart can’t fake, words can’t break, for love’s sake. Having your cake, eating it too, lit candled hue, baked in celebration. Of its affirmation, what makes the heart weep, the love seep, the soul’s keepsake. Like a potato, melting love, butter baked in. Becoming, one love, one heart!
*** Fun with words, a love story’s tale! ***
WCR










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