The Soup is Piping

The soup boils and spits out at me Reminding me of the past. Steam builds as it circulates around the fans Lurching forward, with a spoon, I taste a small droplet of the sizzling delight Only to find myself reminded of that long dreary night I groan as I rip the picture from the wall I stare and reconsider as the soup continues to thrive, In the background. One day, One night, we will make love again while the soup burns. I no longer care of the seasonings in the jar I long for connection I stir and I stir the watery substance Only to see the lonely figure in the reflection. I cry out as I remember The slow burn of a forgotten pan The sadness in your eyes as I placed the soup in front of you Our last moments as the spoon went to your lips It touched and ran along your chin I licked out towards you yet there was only air... However, I still have the piping hot soup A bit of garlic and spice reminds me of those long steamy nights. Olive oil drenching the bottom of the pan and your body as I poured it upon your skin Easy... Only a few moments more of reminiscing. The broth was close to perfection, As I also start to simmer down. One tear fell from my lashes Splashing into your once favorite stew, The final ingredient added.