Brackets:
These brackets,
Big and small brackets,
I don't like its taste..
that's why I hate,
It makes me show,
You have to keep your feet..
here and not there,
as If I belong somewhere
but no where..
I want to make things clear,
No one can show me
If I do belong or I don't belong..
Keep this thing in you clear.
These boundaries you created
is your own mind creativity,
Keep it up to you within
your mind shell,
and just go to hell
that's where you actually belong
and don't ever try to sing this same song.

I don't know where you are
And frankly, I don't care
Because the air tastes so much sweeter
Without you here.

I was not expecting,
given its colour and its texture
and given my preference
for the familiar,
I was not expecting
my hand to take the spoon
to scoop, to lift
the lemon to my mouth
and I was surely not expecting
the ice to wrap my head
in silk
enveloping my shoulders
my arms
and fall into my chest,
forcing my mouth back open
to take in the warmth of the smiles
and expel my laughter
as I reached for more.

Yet my life is not as expected
and not aligned to my preferred,

but oh for more silk and laughter -

Television cooks rarely do
Fish, chips and mushy peas
With spotted **** for afters.

No
It’s got to be
Creamy coconut curry
With Balingud Zalud
Soaked in Chimichurri sauce.

Or Jalapena Lime Slaw
Accompanied by spicy Sriracia mayo
And Rachero Sauce.
Plus a side-dish of fluffy soufflés.

The starter is a vibrant veggy ratatouille
With sashimi, tacos and tortillas.

But then there’s always vemuelli noodles,
Pommes frittes
Teriyehi
Thana messala
And Enchilada Casserole
Covered in Romesco Sauce
Or Hollandaise
With Falafels and couscous.
Then Neapolitan Ice Cream souffled Erotica.

All impossible of course.
But don’t we love
The sheer seduction of those Words.

Paul Butters

© PB 28\4\2020.

He'll come back
He always does
Finding his way back into your bones that carried him for so long
Returning to your blood, leaving it burning and cold at the same time
And even your hips will remember his hands, as they reach up towards them
Whilst your stomach will feel the exact same revolting butterflies as it used to

You'll find him everywhere
You'll see him in your words, the ones he taught you to say
In your chest, when it's getting harder to breath
You'll even taste him in your mouth from when you breathed him
From when you let him get into every inch of you
And now he'll always come back
Not for you, but he'll always come back