“You know everything tastes better when you make it.”

“Really?”

Kitchen utensils softly scraped against a tiny porcelain plate shared amongst us on the floor, living room balcony left wide open to allow the passing of nearly tranquil air and I swear I could hear the muscles arch upwards. Dimples pinpointed to mark a happy pressure and told the world you were smiling for us all; we/I don’t deserve it and yet you smile as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. There’s nothing sad about it just serene and I wish I could keep that smile in my pocket for better days .

“It‘s because it‘s made with love.” Feet happily swinging overhead and that customary smile.

I love that emotion when it’s painted over your face because it just suits you so well. Really it does.

“Maybe.”

“No really.”

“Then I want to eat up all your love and take it from the world because no one else would appreciate it more.”

This is enough, I keep telling myself this is enough and despite that ever present smile I know it’s enough because I just want to feed off your smile and home baked kisses.

 
scarecrow&mama

>: turned out crappy but I swear it was better in my head. Mama and scarecrow adopted a kid.