Love... Quite edible one could imagine.
Some may be famished beyond imaginary boundaries due to his or her own taste.
From sweet kisses, to bitter love, to varieties of flavor that spices up our lives.
We drink lover's spit if we care enough at the moment we see them, the edible ones because,
quite frankly the taste is so grand...
Only through time will we be seasoned to find perfection,
Until then it lingers, as our taste buds crave for more.
Something so tasteful that...
a man would swallow his pride,
a woman would eat her doubts,
a new born will sip it's nourishments,
a free food that no one could ever get full from...
Yet if prepared in the wrong conditions,
love could spoil and poison you, harm you,
destroy you...
So make the best out of the ingredients that you have,
To make it a grand feast that lasts,
before it all expires and goes to waste....
Let this marinade... Before it becomes your food for thought.
Let your cravings state that you are what you eat... lovely soul food.
**I wrote in bold for bold taste. Lol**
A collaborated poem by myself and Kenneth Pope