What must I do for your love?
What must I do for you to be mine?
You are the embodiment of perfection and glory.
The sight of you makes my knees weak
And my power, my ego, disappear.
Your boyish appearance and naïve aura
Makes you irresistible and I want to
A man of twenty, but you’re so pure,
So new, to this harsh world.
I was made
I will write for you until my fingers bleed.
I will further damage this world for you.
I will give you my beating heart for your own.
I will crawl on my hands and knees if you asked.
I will only exist for your own happiness and pleasure.
It’s the holiday season, a very special time of year for me. I remember my mother would always make a special meal for my father whenever their relationship got rocky. The meal would always snap him back in place and make him more in love with her.
She never gave me the recipe, but I remember a few key ingredients.
Parsley for better communication.
Paprika to heat up their relationship.
Celery to improve health.
Carrots for sweetness.
And a piece of meat for stability.
I always thought the store bought food wasn’t good enough for you, so I found alternatives like gardening and harvesting my fruits and vegetables. But you can’t garden or harvest meat.
As I pour a nice, big bowl of stew, you stay glued to your phone. A frown washes over across your face as you tell me about how your co-worker didn’t show up to work the past couple of days and how the entire office is worried about her. I placed the bowl in front of you as you continues to tell me the details.
“Enjoy.” Mindlessly, he dives his spoon into the stew and shovel it into his mouth. I observe as he chews and processes his food, slowly becoming more and more confused.
He puts down his phone and spoon and reaches into his mouth to pull out a human toe bone. As he analyzes the bone, he turns to me slowly and says, “how did you know?” With a smirk on my face, I shrug my shoulders and say,
“I just have good intuition, honey.”