A prayer for the wild at heart how to#

If you eat each other up then you have seen, tasted, felt, and touched each other's insides. If you eat each other up then you have experienced what it is to be eaten alive. If you eat each other up then you have taken what was separate and made it one, combined in all its digestive juices and states. If you eat each other up then you have taken all parts, in.

if you each other up then you have taken what was whole and digested it broken it open and apart and in pieces of good, bad and everything in between. If you eat each other up then there is nothing left to take? If you eat each other up then there is nothing left to give. As that is a way one can fully become one with another. I wanted to eat her from the outside, in. And I intended to pleasure her senses in all ways and capture her with my edible parts. It is a true fact that the way to someone's heart is through their stomach. She was too come over for dinner and I was going to cook her meal. I found myself missing the comfort of a home-cooked meal and of monogamy. I found myself falling into the pools of her depth. So I found myself surprised when after a month of phone calls back and forth, merciless flirtation, obvious attraction and definite chemistry too wake up one morning and find myself starving. Hunger, however, is something that cannot be foreseen, foreshadowed or controlled. Eating something too heavy could upset my stomach and the balance of things I'd managed to establish. I knew eating something rotten, undercooked, or spoiled could lead to food poisoning. Nothing heavy for me, I was still healing, still recuperating. When I did eat out, I made sure too only eat light things and not get too attached to the flavors. I had been on a 'Relationship-Free' diet for the summer and I had been eating-out only. Though I am not much of a chef I can cook the meanest dish of Heart you will ever know.įive months ago I found myself naked and hungry in the kitchen. My face gladly contorts with bitterness and my tongue aches with fire when something is spicy and hot. I enjoy licking salt off my lips and I have a sweet tooth for sugar melting in my mouth.

I am turned on by sight, smell, taste and texture. I am, however, an advent fan of edible parts and pleasures.

I am no such woman.Ĭooking is a fine art I have not mastered that usually ends up with a mess among the counter tops and across the floor joined by a cacophony of clanking pots and pans.

A prayer for the wild at heart how to#

A woman should know how to cook for her man. A woman should know her place is in the kitchen.

Adding an ingredient or two too early, an ingredient or two too late. I would usually end up burning everything to crispy brown ashes or messing up the order of preparation. She would attempt to teach me how to cook but it was a useless in Endeavour. My mother in her jeans and low cut tank top, belly showing, loose hair in big thick curls falling around looser hips, and me little girl with wild hair and boyish swagger at her side careless, reckless, both of us stubborn in the kitchen of past lives. My version of 'seasoning' is called throwing a random assortment of spices, whatever is in the cabinet, into the pot and calling it 'done'. I boil water and drop pasta or rice in and let it filter to the top when ready. That is I can cook your basics nothing too fancy, just the simplicity of life supplements.