love, underbaked

I baked a whole tray— not for me. I’ve never liked brownies, too sweet on tongue, too soft for teeth… But you once said you'd like to try mine. They cracked as they left the oven. I bit, too soon— blistered my tongue on sugar too young to settle. If only you were here to taste it… you’d know what I meant. They’re best straight from the pan— burning, messy, sweet enough to sting. But the moment passed, and now they’ve gone rigid— I sit with the tray untouched but for one corner. My eyes drift out to the setting sun— The warmth dies... The surface hardens... for the baked and the baker.