Dipping my fingers into your affection,

It tastes like sweetened condensed milk -

The way you hold me when I'm trapped in the dark,

Your company such a welcome confection.

 

And your words - they hang in the air like silence.

Reassurances so caring and intelligent,

I could trace my fingers along that empty can

And find your wisdom among the remnants.

 

This love of mine can feel so heavy,

For whipping cream, once beat and folded,

Is to be handled with care and concern -

A fragile luxury, rewarding only to the patient chef.

 

You compliment my bittersweet sentiments

With sweet sensible optimism,

Like honey mixed with chocolate liquor,

A most irresistible, delectable balance.

 

My lips have been fooled before by such saccharine taste,

But yours, soft like carnation petals,

Drip sincere, viscous words,

Brushed gently by your thumb from the curves of my face.

 

Wrapped in your arms, safe, I can smell sugar on your breath,

Sweet blessings rolling off your tongue,

Gentle wafts of your kindness from the cupboard

Where you’ve been waiting for me, smiling from the shelf.