I remember when I took my first bite of heartbreak.
I didn’t see ill intentions hiding underneath the perfect layer of milk chocolate-because I was only dipping the tips of my fingers in the icing.
I was enticed to take a bite, and that was when I first experienced the taste of malice.
The bitterness hugged on to each of my taste buds, like the barnacle colonies on the hull of my self esteem’s sinking ship.
I couldn’t eat for days.
I remember laying in a fetal position, retching in my sleep.
Everything reminded me of him- and I was sick to my stomach over and over again.
I thought I knew what the scent and taste of love was, but my senses were so immature.
Eventually, this taught me to observe more.
I have a habit of reading people like nutrition labels- because I need to know what your value is to me.
I need to know the repercussions of adding you to my diet on a daily basis.
Do you increase my risk of heart disease by clogging my arteries with false friendship, fake forevers and parasitic tendencies that hardens not only my heart but the vessels that lead in and out of it?
I want to know what percentage is organic-natural, real, wholesome, fresh, light.
Are you a superfood- packed with dense nutrients?
You see, I am a glutton.
If you invite me to a buffet, I will pile up my plate with fulfilling, perfectly seasoned conversations that have been marinating in this frigid world.
I prefer to leave my food for thought out in the cold – on the back porches of society where other poets also thrive.
It’s a place where we can have a better view of the stars as we allow our brain cells to marinate into a savory fusion of enigma, dredged in understanding about the beauty in our differences.
Differences that amalgamate into an exquisite delicacy that we deliver in the forms of verses.
Bon Appetite!
