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The Recipe.
You’d think beauty was keen as you notice schematic’s
While the mixture of love is what forces the habit
Gradually adding some spices of righteous
Enlightens the hybrid combined with lighting.
The meat is fresh and the meal will be blessed
As the cooks begin cooking as the table is set.
As it cooks…
A sultry sense of the aroma douse my nostrils
As the stomach growls thinking of how tender it feels
Reeled in as if a fish to meadow bait. Aside the metal waits
For the taste should be sweat as I anticipate the dish's fate.
Clinching fork in fist fore I hunger for this.
Anxiously it just can’t be Me. While in knots my stomach twist.
Viewing butter toned skin. Perfectly
Cooked to perfection. By the perfectionist.
A God fulfilled wish upon glimpse. My heart weeps on sight.
As The platter is set and served to see what you taste like.
The Taste Test.
As your tender words spice the air as if ginger herbs. I taste
The tongue of the one the best work of the Gods could create.
The skin so smooth as if a milk like substance. Something
I can’t quite put my finger on. The spices ohm! The spices.
Taste so good the way I eat it it’s embarrassingly frightening.
While well prepared to my liking I became aware of excitement.
Combined with your mind gift I find it’s obliging .
Now full of the taste and filled with the grace.
Of the gods when they handed me. You to taste.
The Work of The Gods.