The lioness sits down with the coward and asks him what the rush is. The heart is not a supermarket where you come to grab your essentials with a shopping list of expectations and presume you can stick it on a tab. You could have got it all for free if you had just stopped trying to make a meal out of me. Searching for the perfect recipe for something you’ve never tasted. Tell me I’m too much meat on the bone but complain that you’re still hungry and alone. Just the right amount of chilli but not enough kneading and god forbid that you leave me to prove that I could get through a bad day without you, that you might have to follow instructions when I could not have been clearer that I taste better with a touch of patience, not cranking up the heat till I evaporate in a cloud of steam.
Forgive me for speaking out of my vacuumed packet but I don’t see the magic in the trick of how you made me disappear.