Just because
You take precautions
Doesn't mean
I won't break

I know not of the stars
but I know your face
I can gift you the moon
But I know you want that cake
Your round face
Staring at me
Your full lips
Trembling as you kiss my knee  
From the window 
The moon looked on eagerly 
as we joyfully devoured our cake.

"When we marry I want a huge cake like that."

My heart skipped a beat.
I wanted to kiss her so badly.

birthday cake ice cream
but you lost all your sprinkles
now just vanilla.

if I popped a balloon for every time I felt
black sludge in place of where serotonin should be,

I'll have ruined my own birthday party.
...oh, where are the guests?
did I cancel on them or did they cancel on me?

oh well. I still have my cake.
my black, sludge cake.

Life's too short
To sit and cry
So here's a cake
My good man

Do me a favor
Wear your best smile
The light is coming
For you and I

My therapist once told me I turn crumbs into a cake,
a shortcoming for me to address.

Like when he visits for a day
after committing to two.

Or when he sends a heartfelt text
to cancel the next trip.

But is this such a bad thing?
Why not treat every small act of kindness as a meaningful gift?

Why not expect little and be surprised when you receive more?
Why not be grateful instead of hopeful?

Less is more.
Grace is amazing.

So if and when he brings me a cake,
I will radiate even more love and light.

Every time
We kissed
I wanted to
Devour
Her face
She was as appetizing
As golden yellow cake
With butter cream frosting