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Poem

Despicable 
How it drips down the side
Bubbling up from the innards of the pot

I can hear the sizzling 
The smell of the butter drenched corn
I throw in a bit of salt and pepper
To spice up the contents

Cream splashes up, upon my cheek
I leave it.
The light burning sensation begins to fade 
As I step away, breathing intensely 

This alone reminded me of my younger years.
Frightened yet interested 
In how the cream drizzled corn was hesitant to conform. 

How I yearn for the old me
Who could make batches of milky substance,
Yet now I struggle 
With the makings of one 

My fingers felt greasy 
Like those nights years ago
How I would work every evening 
Hoping you enjoyed the taste 

My eyes sparkling,
Lost in the thoughts
The slurping and screeching 
Of the boiling brew

The fragrance of corn graces my nostrils
Flashes of memories flood in
Your body, yet again
Covered in the opalescent matter

You used to love my cream corn chowder
The same way I still desire you 
Yet there’s always a bowl of higher quality.
Saddened, as I turn the flame on low

Let it seethe,
Let it come to a halt.
Now I await to enjoy 
Like those feasts years ago

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