Cooking Tips...

It was late
when i stepped into the kitchen
of my longing
Waiting for the poetic water to boil
my mind traveled to where you are
right behind my neck
your aromatic breath in a peck
unbuckling my long night of hair
unzipping all the doubts i wear
off
boiling my beliefs enough
the faith pan shivered at your touch
untying every line your fingers brush
adding some silence salt
and absence pepper
the temperature drops when you're long
and when you're long, 
every drop is a longing song
and then you gently stir
every verse with your eyes Sheer
until they tenderly moan
those hardened long ramblings
under your fire pressure
every touch is a slap of pleasure
softened like rose buds in the heart of spring
as i mind rub the metaphors nectar 
why do you hide so far?
when you burn only as close as a breath
rising out of my calling lungs
and falling just in the palms of my expecting mess
seasoned with your masculine oil
the desert rose sweats in moisture  
and hanker dew

And to prevent your hooky sticking
pour plenty of your presence water
drown in the drain
get off that life's fast lane
and board on our fantasy plane
taste as i serve you of my soul
and bite when dressing on my heart for you
in a seasonal linguistic delight
the longer you cook your comings
the mushier they become
and melt in the hug of one "hello"
forget not your craving letters ratio
don't rely on this clock to evaluate doneness
use those teeth
bite to know when to stop
lip to feel when never to
keep some water to the going sauce
when i have nothing but my lonely chillies to eat
 drain this time in a colander
cover it up with your arrival  rinse
to keep it hot
until you french leave in a shot
then i spread your moments in a my bowl of hope
ladling a scant half cup of wistful wishes
in the middle of my acceptance
sipping your kissing words on the tip of my tongue
it has been too-cooking-long
since you dipped into my languishing recipes
fresh me always on your mind menu
and leave never your ingredients to roast
be it a saucy plate of lascivious pasta
or a lash of 140 honey droplets
on the back of a birdy chirp toast.
so, in case you are cooking
let your eyes do their thing 
because when it comes to you, my love..
There is communion of more than our bodies 
when bread is broken and wine drunk.