There is something about the kitchen that invites intimacy
I remained a Stonehenge somehow even between the sheets
Salty tears held their ground in my ducts
You are beautiful
I will be somewhere else in no time
It was while haphazardly preparing you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off at 2am
laughing quietly over the kitchen island, fumbling the butterknife
That I realized loving you might be why I was molded in flesh
That I realized leaving you might be why I despise my late twenties
The kitchen invites intimacy
We dance barefoot on the tile while the chicken thaws on the counter
The kitchen invites intimacy
The magnetic letters on my fridge spell M + F 4EVER
The kitchen invites intimacy
we recite Mamet’s Boston Marriage, while I flip your grilled cheddar on sour dough
“Your favorite meal as a kid”
You told me the evening I met you
While we ate spaghetti I slaved over the stove top for,
in an old house
With different roommates
With different priorities
With different schedules
With our parents as our emergency contacts
What feels like eons ago
It somehow has perpetually been
You and I
In the kitchen
I think I need you like I need three meals a day
The breakfast, lunch and dinner
I take daily at my counter
Sitting opposite you
The kitchen invites intimacy
I was too young to invite intimacy.
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