I remember vaguely, the first time I had ever indevoured to devour. Your sweet scent, your intoxicating taste, one that I will always remember. You hurt me though. Putting so much on my thighs. But I still went back to you, hoping it would change. Never wondering, never questioning why. Then you came to me one evening. When I was very blue. Brown velvet in my mouth, and yes, I knew it had to be you. There are very few times in my life that I can say I was in love. But you were the first one, and above all the only one. You comfort me in bad times, you see me through all the good, and you never judge me, even if you could. I love you.

He sat nervously, waiting for his meal to come. It had been so long since he left. He anxiously felt the eyes watching him. They were probably thinking "Is that Eric? What's he doing back here?" He glanced around the room. No eyes were on him, no one seemed to care that he was alone. They were all absorbed in their own worlds. His shoulders loosened up a bit.

"Here's your tomato basil soup and grilled cheese." The porcelain clanked on the wooden table as the waiter set it down. "Enjoy."

"Thank you."

Eric picked up a piece of the sandwich and dipped it into the soup. The aroma wafted through the air as he brought it closer to his mouth. His teeth closed around the soft, yet crispy bread. The second he tasted the tangy soup followed by the buttery bread and gooey cheese, all sense of anxiety faded away and the memories came flooding back.

Every day he had extra cash to spare and time to kill, he spent at this diner. All the jokes he cracked as Macy worked behind the counter. Every cigarette he smoked with Jason out back, laughing about how this would kill them, not the war. Even when his friends left and the town lost more of its heart, this place could always make him smile.

He took another bite, even though the sandwich's heat was starting to burn his mouth. As he took a spoonful of the thick soup, he forgot why he left in the first place, for this was home.

Mad and Frustrated

Bursting open

like a Summer Blue Berry

Then squashed

Masticated

Swallowing my pride

Laying down

Surrendering

like

1 berry in a pie shell

Fell like

It tastes like ash, and smoke, the taste so thick you can't taste the meat. You bite through the blackened skin trying to salvage the meal, yet can't get past the taste. It was a meal you planned and looked forward to, even spent extra money at the grocery store for the finest cut of meat. And now it's a piece of charred waste. It tastes like loss, it tastes like defeat. And all you can do is scrape your plate into the trashcan.

Eating the burger bun is very easy, but to eat such bun well is some difficult if is only.

A stuff is most important due to taste for fulfillness muddy gluten. Then my proposal as follow: if you are really really hungry, fill whatever digestible with your hardest words so then after meal you should feel full.

I remember enjoying it as a child, but only in vague memories. It had a soft consistency and a slight yeast taste, not strong enough to offend my youthful taste buds, but not bland enough to bore them. The best description would be delightfully plain, a processed staple like a Twinkie bar. It's spotted packaging is familiar, like an actors face that you can't put a name to and wouldn't bother with the effort. its colored dots with a white background give its plastic packaging a solid color, different from clear wrappings of other brands. Nothing is out of place from its presence, even when standing out. It's appearance on grocery store shelves is expected, iconic. The sliced bread is cut in perfect strips, the sliced breadiest sliced bread. Memories of cheap sandwiches in suburban summer cookouts. Quick packed kindergarten lunches. A slight golden toaster tinge topped with processed grape jelly. Its image is sanitary, boring, perfect, and perhaps a little too much of those things. Many scoff at the white packages at the store, see them as too commercial, dated, and bland. Most would prefer artesian whole wheat. That's the paradox of wonder bread, its shiny white clean, too spotless to be perfect and too perfect to be spotless.

I was feeling very emotional the other day. I didn't know how to cope with my powerful feelings, so I decided to eat some food. I ate a lot of food.

I started off by eating a few pieces of chocolate cake. Chocolate is always a good way to deal with emotions, right? Wrong. It only made me feel worse. I felt like I was drowning in a vat of chocolate syrup.

Next, I ate a few slices of pizza. That didn't help either. In fact, it made me feel even more emotional! The pizza sauce was like acid burning my throat and the cheese was like rubbery handcuffs tying me down.

I needed something that would make me feel better fast. So, I ate an entire tub of ice cream. And you know what? It worked! The cold, creamy ice cream soothed my soul and calmed my mind. Emotional eating can be really helpful sometimes, don't you think?

Your buns, squashed and soggy

the flavor that were trying to evoke, vague and foggy

your pickles sour and meat but a sliver

so full of salt, that you made my heart quiver

a better choice, I should have made

for this was not worth the calorie trade

A food as oily as dry skin ointment

you are the very epitome of disappointment.