My Cookie

Playing with dual meanings. Shakespearean sonnet!

The fairest sifted flour of her breast
rolls gently to the smoothest butter skin.
A molten sugar heart beats in her chest;
her eyes are chocolate, rich and deep as sin.

A dust of cinnamon across her nose,
a wild smile of baking powder white -
a pinch of salt adorns each of her toes.
As beaten egg, her hair is gold and light.

So stirred! She takes my hand upon her, bare,
and in me, primal hunger starts to wake -
I lay her down upon the sheet with care
and bid farewell as she begins to bake.

Soon she’ll be cool. I’ll ponder as I eat
why living love could never taste as sweet.

Reviews

[Liz]

You did a great job here with the dual meanings. I've never thought of love being compared to a cookie before, but after reading this I learned that it is oh so true. Your ending line "why living love could never taste as sweet." is the perfect ending to this one of a kind poem.
Great job and keep on writing!(: