Peanut Butter Cookies

Without worry I sit and wonder
when the next batch will come.

Dough rolled out, stretched and pulled,
broken into pieces and stuck in the oven.

Without the confines of a cookie cutter
natural in every way.
A free form of emotional bliss
laid flat on the pan.

I patiently wait,
green plate on the table
waiting for the oven to preheat.

The dough rises, becoming smaller.
I only hope you understand
how lovely it is to be near
someone you love.

Without the concealment of airtight bags
they are free
the cookies that bake in the oven
soon to be placed on a plate, devoured.

Introduced to the seduction of crumbs
that come together;
sweet, delightful,
before it fully hardens.

Soft, delightful.
Skinny dipping in a pool of cookie dough
an illusion of things whole
until broken apart by lips in full desire.

Drenched in saliva of deep need,
simultaneously becoming a memory
as well as a part of smiling lips.

The mistletoe that hangs above the heart,
waiting for another batch
made by your hands.