Empty temp me I think I mighta bent me spent me now I’m broke I get broken a lot looking for hope It’s the pain and the strain that I smoke I feel like hell and it drags me down with every drag I take not clowning around It’s pouring rain watch the blood run Running in circles, call me insane
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ'✿⊱╮ Crisp on the outside Soft, fluffy inside Vanilla blooms on my tongue Maple syrup drips Strawberries, whipped cream Dust sugar Stack! ╰⊰✿⊱╮
Twentieth Epulaeryu, finally! ^-^ WAFFLES!!!! Man, I think I'm gonna take a short break from this series lool My sweet tooth has created 20 of these poems! Wow! I've impressed and concerned myself lol Anyway, thanks so much everyone! I hope I didn't give you too MANY cavities ^-^ Love you guys, thank you SO MUCH for 186 followers! My Kingdom grows! ^-^ Hugs! Lyn ***
On some mornings mom would ask if Kyle and I wanted waffles these were no ordinary syrup catchers marbled by deep purple stuffed with blueberries
When I was born I was born a blueberry due to the blue pigmentation resulting from lack of oxygen because of my mother’s smaller stature that day a screaming smurf was brought into the world and I’ve been getting redder ever since
Above the sink in my dad’s home is a small purple bowl handmade with a ceramic stem that broke off years ago on the inside bottom is an engraving that simply reads ‘Blue Berries’ but no longer carries fruit
Been boostin' on antioxidants since I was blue in the face
Turn the tables tumble through tears totalitarian thespians trying tired themes Tanned tenants thrive trespassing turtles turn towards tornadoes Tested trees tower tall tomorrow terrifies Timetraveller Tom. Again and again I have to make my choice between your fiery face and the endless maze But then I remember my heart is made up of a thousand tiny Belgian Waffles A thousand tiny Belgian Waffles.
dont call me a pancake, i am not a flap jack. i have pockets for syrup and butter, and i am obviously hacked. i can be made into flavors and be savory, or remain sweet and sugary unbearable.
no matter what you want to call me, i am a waffle, a baked piece of yum, so give them one or two... and dont be the fool. because its the tool that makes it go... straight to your lips and eventually to someones hips.
so bake me, shake up the flavor... stack me into a cake and slice me up, but when the steam stops... i am full of love.
It is random. I dont care. Also homage to my work. Take a wild Guess.
Round or square. I don't really care as long as they're there. Crispy and golden, filled with sticky syrup. Topped with butter which melts like ice. Take one bite and you are in love. They are the best breakfast to ever be on one's tongue.