You taste comfortable. Like warm cashews and roasted almonds. Like slightly salted fingers. You soak on my lips and crumble on my tongue.
You’re just the right amount of mystery. The perfect portion of desire. I can fit your fears on my plate, and chew your worries with my mouth closed.
You’re my morning coffee. My afternoon snack. The candy I hide behind yesterday’s granola, and the drink I reach for in the dark.
I crave you between meals.
You feed me. Like backyard gardens and front-porch apple trees. Like homegrown vineyards. You nurture my body and nourish my soul.
You’re a secret recipe. The coolest blend of sugar and greens. You quench my appetite and quiet my thirst. You make my eyes strong.
You’re my survival. My magic potion. The feast that fattens every daydream, and the force I hold onto each night.
You keep me alive.
You’re my favorite food group.