Thoughts, Never Words. (Poetry Collection)

Love and Whisks.

Sometimes, I feel like
Love is given
Like how our mothers
Gave us the whisks
With cookiedough
Still on them
To lick up.

We patiently wait,
And in the end
It's not easy,
Licking up all that excess.
It takes effort
To reach those
Hard to reach places.

Like the middle
of the whisk,
Or round the edges.
And once we are done.
We are left with
Dissapointment
That there was not more.

Love is like licking
Cookiedough off whisks.
So wonderful
yet never enough.
Stuck with the sweet taste.
And the bitter end,
Of always wanting more.