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Cyan Aug 15
Whisk me away.
Make me a merengue.
Split me
To separate my insides
From my outs,
And beat me until I reach
A heightened state
Where I can be made sweet.
ollie Jul 21
we want to be in control
and stomp on places where the sidewalk ends
because we never met the right kinda boy next door
and just kept on walking down the road
shine your shoes with the concrete dust
works better than baking soda in a pinch
and mother doesn’t want you touching the foodstuffs
even though she hasn’t cooked in years
it’s a battle for you to eat most nights
when you’re gonna get your hands caught in locked cabinet doors
to prevent hungry bellies from looking for more than the nothing they were provided
we live in tired houses with slumped walls
where the summer heat made them wanna sit down too
no kid from a small town has ever wanted to stay in one
and i can’t help
being meant for more
than concrete dust
and baking soda
Call me naive.
Blinded by a honeymoon phase
and sickly sweet jest

Because I want to keep
this blindfold
pulled down over my eyes.

I don't want to know
what time it is—
day or night, stars and light —
but this comfort
wraps my body and glues me to my bed.

He likes me
He likes me, not
the me I always try and hide behind
but the me that's real.

And he's honey sweet
and golden feat,
how I managed to find him
I'll never know.

He tells me once
twice and again, actually,
that they couldn't have made
a better half for him in a lab
if they had tried.

I'd lift my blindfold to see
you and your gorgeous honey blue eyes
shining through the dark like a moon,
and what we bake together
might just be the most delicious cake maybe ever.

If my words were sugar
I could have told him then
and there, his lips on mine
tasted sweet.
Like everything he says to me.

But I'm bad at baking cakes with no sugar
and all the store had was keyboards and pens
so I wrote him this instead;

To my perfect other half,
Each joke you make resounds
laugh for laugh, I sculpt you a present
epitaph commemorating you... for you
with words, to say

I think...
I might love you?
I have a really good feeling about this one, he's amazing
Ek Apr 10
Today someone said the word
And it brought me back to a distinct
Neither bitter nor sour, but
Like the cookies, you baked.

Every time I visited I wanted to
Bake the neatest of cookies and
Afterwards in the playground by your now
Old home
You no longer live there but I remember

Every childhood beath I drew
In that home, nesting in the door
Measuring my height and the brick wall where we used to
During those summer nights
Do not take it too seriously,
Following a recipe to a tee

Unless you are making
No need to fake it
‘Til you make it,
It is a sweet life
You are baking.

A creature of the moment
A pinch of salt
Is the secret

Your concoction
Puffs up in the oven —

The frosting,

Make it
‘Til you become it.
m Jan 1
the glass spice jar of rosemary sits in the corner,
bait to prying fingers and
warm dough rising.

a set of hands banish her from her home,
open her up to greedy senses
and hearty-moans.

and then suddenly,
her graceful throat tips,
grinds of rosemary fall into buttered flour,
and she settles around moles of dried cranberries,
specks of shimmering sea salt,
and passionate, cherry pink fingertips.
I'm baking bread with the sun out. My heart feels clear. I can breathe.
Hungry Panda Nov 2018
People show love in many ways
A note on the bathroom door
An extra brownie in your lunch box
Starting the car on a cold morning
For her it  was in her food
She cooked her emotions the way most chefs add salt
You could taste them clearly in every bite connecting your tastebuds to your heart,
If she was happy the steak melted on your tongue
If she was sad the soup made a tear glisten in your eye
But when she was in love with me
Every Bite sang in my mouth
She made my favorites every night
Life was good
But one day the bread wasn’t so fluffy
It held a melancholy note i’ve never tasted before
I asked what was wrong but she didn’t have the words to explain what she as feeling,
So I let it go
That was my mistake
Day by day, she started to crumble
So did her pies
She went from a wonder dancing in the kitchen and licking the spoon
To a hollow shell serving you lukewarm pasta that left you unsettled
I excused her behavior
I was busy she was stressed
The food was only cold because I was so late to the table
I didn’t realize it wasn’t dinner I was neglecting
It was her
If i could change one moment in my life, i’d be that night
The one where she finally felt up to baking again
We had some time together, she hummed a bit as she stirred the batter
But then she stumbled and dropped a glass measuring cup of milk she was holding
It was bitter irony seeing the woman i loved,
The light of my life,
Crying over spilled milk
That’d be the moment i’d change
I’d catch her wrist and hold her up
Just Like I promised I would
I wouldn’t fail her if I had another chance
Our kitchen is quiet these days
There's a thick layer of dust everywhere except the microwave
And around the edges of the room are tiny bits of glass
Glistening like diamonds
Or unshed tears,
Abandoned like me
But I can’t complain
After all, I abandoned her first
I should have read the recipe
I should have realized she was breaking
I didn’t see it at first
But every bite held a piece of her suicide note
If i’d only tasted it before it was too late
Now she’s gone
My hearts as broken as that measuring cup
And I’m the one crying over spilled milk

By Aknier     ~this is fictional~
Merry Jul 2018
I want to live in a big house
In the middle of a big town
And in my big house
In the middle of a big town
I want to bake biscuits in my big kitchen
And feed them to my friends
Who come to visit my big house
In the middle of a big town
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
Falling into his“Love Batter we learn to think
what really matters its a science
Not a test this is far from the reader's digest
Traveling East or West what motivates you the best

How every ingredient  makes you feel cozy
Rose sprinkle no time to be
(Rip Van Winkle) no sleepy time Chai tea time
How do we ever find the time
Telling someone to be mine be more entertaining
then tell her you really love her what's inside her

How to flatter her and give her your better heart of time
Send her an equally love letter with your love ingredients
Be obedient with poise light up her baking flowers pansies
A musical instrument with a subtle sound of noise
Something is giving you the crunchies
Her baking lips how they cream into the stem rose pink,
I fell for her red-hot, ones love batter I wanted to drink
Radiant as can be the next sugar high shot

Any suggestions
On so many missions
Love liaisons add some golden raisins
Love was coupled hands mixed eyes double

Falling for him and lifting her up sings.

Her gravity spooned angelic wings.

sugared and floured hearts angel dust.

We bond together to trust.

For the right reasons Valentine all seasons.

I suggest we get started I cannot resist

The moon shuffles wedding list

A-Couple A-+stumble

Kisses of an hmm-yum gamble

He’s hot and I am cold

Weather together eyes coupled

We stay strong where we belong

You Betcha or I will bake ya…

When we come together we listen.

The birds heat lucky red words.

Get’s easier the same person glistens.

We have and baking fingers hold.

The same kisser reaction

extraordinary to marry.

Love triply floppy disk.

Hands wedding finger

mixing perfect whisk.

How he bakes me a cake.

His easy task heavenly

love falling ingredients divinely.

All the right condiments.

Sugar dissolved love pursued.

I never in my life felt like this.

Love so crazy glued…
This is a remedy for love mixing some fine ingredients but it was getting really hard to mix she needed more creamy eyes of his batter but love to him was something of a different time matter
Tommy Randell Feb 2018
The corpse was still there this morning
My wife had left it covered with a towel
Strange though to feel such emotion
When I had slept like a log in denial

It's a reality of life and I accept it
The search for perfection is fraught
The mistakes can make you a sceptic
And Bread can be bought from a shop
My first disaster bake since beginning my Bread making binge 6 weeks ago. Sadly it had to happen on Valentines Day with what was to be a special loaf of Bread. Was it too wet? Was the water to hot for the yeast? Were expectations too high? Oh Dear. Too many variables. Back to the baking board.
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