"tell me the recipe of your poetry",
he whispered into my ears with sweet nothings drowning in the sea of my sadness.
i smiled softly.
walked him to the kitchen of my broken house, entrapped in a body of hollow bones.
his palms collided with the valley of mine as i started to pour the ingredients one at a time.
the milk of my depressed thoughts mixed with the honey of self hate;
soon,
they bloomed a bitter taste for the fruits of my buried dreams garnished their long forgotten sweet taste.
the salt of disappointments and a dash of taunts and body shame made my dish more sadistic and melancholic.
i broke your rib;
formed a spoon and forced your tongue out to take sips of the awaiting dish you wanted to savour for so long.
your eyes dripped with white pearls as mine only gave out coal from my dejected mines.
my lips turned up as i whispered back,
"wasn't that the best dessert you have ever had?"
