I like to cook,
To cut and to chop,
Follow a recipe?
I think the **** not.

I guess and I taste
As I go along,
Each meal is different,
Every seasoning strong.

A pan so hot
With its sizzling sound,
Don’t come in my kitchen-
My chaos all around.

The water is boiling,
Steam clouds the air,
There’s flour on my face,
Chili powder in my hair.

Everyone knew
It was my turn to cook dinner,
Music blasting loud-
Master chef sinner.

I sing off-key
While I stir the ***,
But it smells delicious,
And that’s what I’ve got.

When it’s all done,
I plate it so nicely,
A centering ritual
That sometimes feels wifely.

The clock ticks In time,
With a heart that's out of time
The second hand sweeps.

Love demands
openings,
tender ruptures—
And I’m too raw
to receive them.
I hover myself
to keep
from falling—
Like blocks,
stacked in silence,
each part of me
resting on the next.
One wrong shift,
and I could unravel.
So my body
learned
not to split open
for want.

I wash myself with water,
you find too hot to touch
But it soothes my aching muscles and
my tired soul so much
Relaxation is becoming me,
with eucalyptus in the air,
Soothing all my senses while I
lather it through my hair
Jelly bean body scrub in hand,
everything smells sweet
Exfoliating the day from my being, removing myself from defeat
Rubbing circles along my jaw to massage away exhaustion,
high pressured heat to free my shoulders of the burden they carry so often
Body oil to top it off,
strawberry my favorite choice
It's hard to hate yourself when you smell so good,
but it's easier to find my voice