We used to sit on our kitchen floor at 2 a.m.
Snacking on sweets,
It was quiet then.
surrounded by fields of flours
In between timers,
we ate off-cuts from cakes.
we talked about school and relationships, family, and
Chocolate stained our hands, as we licked spatulas clean.
tried to right our childhood memories in
Swiss frosting– sweet and sensory overwhelming
our inheritance of perception. While sharing
raspberry tart filling.
at 2 a.m.
Angel cake– soft and cloud-like
my breath, felt less weighed down by
Strawberry compote drizzled
heartbreaking rejections. We cried over
a bowl of hand-whipped cream topped by
hard-fought lessons of youthful blunders, and
fresh-cut strawberries.
I still sit on my kitchen floor at 2 a.m.
Snacking on sweets and
Wondering if you’re missing
dough with extra brown sugar in
our conversations about
Dark, milk, or sometimes semi-sweet chocolate chip
dreams of our futures and what we wanted to be and all the
Cookies baked to perfection.