There are threads of you floating around like the aroma of cakes that you bake,
the chocolates you sent the other day were a treat to watch because of your calligraphy on them.
You wrote Rumi’s love poems on those cream cakes with strawberry icing and heart made of cherries.
You sure know how to kill me with your love.
Just like the food you bake for me which I can only admire and not eat because of it’s beauty, you’re those threads I can never catch hold of.
I can see you from far, admire you while you fill sweet jars, but I can’t have you.
You sure know how to kill me with your love.
Love, you say is better if longed for.
What kind of love it is that comes easy,
This poem is getting cheesy.
I long for you my chocolate pie baker,
you’re my life maker.
Euphoric Being 