Kitchen Build a home on my chest, a kitchen within my heart. Sit with me at the breakfast table and let me chew on your deepest fears and you, on mine. These walls smell of leftovers from dinner nights I called before you arrived. A dinner of men and women whose names I did not want to know; clad in Chiffon, some in Velvet, others in skin. I could’ve asked them to stay a little longer And wait for the sun to rise, Whilst clearing the sink of its burdens. But no, I couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol In their breaths, or the foul smell of other people’s Tongues in theirs. Now, here you are, just another ordinary soul. But how extraordinary is my eagerness to know your name, to have breakfast with you, to clear the sink with you. How extraordinary my kitchen feels today.
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