i’ve seen relationships unravel and fall to the floor like two strands of overcooked spaghetti,
i’ve seen hearts thrown against walls just to test if they’re ready for love yet.
but not everyone can stick.
not everyone wants to be stuck to the wall, cooked,
alone, waiting to be disposed of.
some of us wanna bounce off the wall and fall right back into the pot so we can keep on dancing,
too close for comfort, too crowded, too hot and sticky. . . . .
or better yet, miss the pot completely and fall directly on the burner,
fry, harden, and smell up the whole kitchen.
these hot heads are saucey individuals and they don’t always mix well.
revolutionaries want to live on fire, not realizing that their children need to eat.
i’ve survived for weeks on ramen noodles.
i’ve had elegant five course meals on royal cruise ships. i’ve loved like chopped onions,melted like hot butter,and have sprinkled parmesan poems on passing beauties, only to end up on the floor,
i wanna love like those two noodles that jump in the pot together and never stop sticking,no matter how much you stir.i wanna be that thick couple that stays hard in the middle,because they need to cook longer,because they enjoy cooking together,because their bond protects them from life’s heat,
because the outside world cannot pierce their water-tight bond.
i wanna cook slowly, like that, with you.