Love Is Like A Snicker Doodle

I am so damn thankful for you, and not because it's November coincidentally, but because you put inside of me, besides your rectal thermometer, a clarified role of what love can be and maybe should be. 

It is basically a snickerdoodle. Yeah, Love is a snickerdoodle. The pinnacle of cookie that gives itself over to mouth watering goodness. Its cinnamon sweet smell as it is inhaled right before first mouth quenching taste. As you succumb to the flavor of its rich butter crunch next, you are transported to a tropical paradise, sitting in a hammock of existential charms. Enamored, you settle in to the next layer of warm, enticing softness that is slowly becoming a puddle of delicious mush that you can feel everywhere. Then there is the last and best part. The reason why we eat snickerdoodles to begin with, as well as love.  For it is for the feeling that it matters. As it slides down and fills you full of its sugar charm, it leaves you toasty and tingling with amazement. It becomes your purpose. A yearning for more.

So, as far as the world being a pretty unique and fukked up place, it still has its sense of humor and the lustful Doodle.