Loving her was like a good meal.
An unexpected moment in the universe when everything goes right.
Whether the chef changes the recipe.
Or I just so happened to catch the place on a slow day.
An otherwise busy, fast paced world.
Everything from the complimentary water, to the appetizer.
The main course.
This was how good to be in love with her felt.
There was no such thing as placing another order.
Substituting one item for another.
Without need for a menu.
I wanted all that she had to offer.
This was a meal that couldn't be recreated.
Everything presented perfect on the plate.
The seasonal greens and meat overlapping what's thought to be imperfect.
We often take for granted the simple things.
Occasional efforts that what we need most can easily be found at request.
This isn't always the case.
We authentically lose anticipation doing so.
Creating different realities of ourselves.
Rather than learning to accept.
Soaked in juices, the aroma seeping through the air.
She sizzled, cracked, and popped.
This experience that approached.
This was eating at it's finest.
Preparing knife and fork.
Loving her without wasting a single crumb, morsel, or drop.
This was me biting into something that I've never before experienced.
Giving each other what we've both desired.
The fulfillment of one another.
Exploring portion after portion of this delicious rendezvous
