• very_emergency 23w

    Cookie Button: A Metaphor

    for Jade and Rosalia since you guys always read.

    Love is a cookie button.
    You push it,
    And out from a metal slide,
    Comes the most delicious,
    Aromatic, delectable, fresh baked cookie.
    Most satisfying thing you've ever tasted.
    So you push it again.
    Another cookie comes out,
    Not quite as fresh, but tasty nonetheless.
    And again, but yet an older cookie still.
    And the fourth press... well,
    Nothing comes out.
    You press and you press and press...
    No motion, no cookie.

    Looking around you see others,
    Some of their machines work fine,
    At first you may be outraged,
    Envious and spiteful,
    But it's not your life,
    And who are they not to be happy.
    Some people have a burnt cookie come out
    "Wow. My cookies were never THAT bad..."
    And still, somehow, the sight of it
    Makes you hungrier.

    You push and push, angrily sometimes,
    Why won't this damn thing work.
    If only I knew how limited my time was,
    If only I knew I'd only have so few,
    I would have savored every moment,
    Made every bite a holiday,
    Analyzed the recipe so I could recreate it,
    But I was lost in joy, and sped through it.

    And here I am years later,
    Pushing this damn button still.
    A thousand cookies have passed me,
    Their warm doughy scent fills the air,
    I have heard complaining, and appreciation,
    I have seen some get only 1 cookie,
    Others hundreds.
    I suppose it's the luck of the draw,
    And the baker on the other side.
    Some claim theres a very specific way,
    A method that you have to push the button,
    But it's all folly. I've seen some punch it,
    Others gently tap it,
    The cookies are random.

    I push this button until the end of time
    And if all I get is the memory of the first bite,
    Then I'll die with wonderful knowledge
    And more wonderful memories,
    But so help me, these barren years,
    Have forged in my soul one heart,
    A heart which knows the deepest,
    And most utter value,
    Of these chocolate chip pieces of crap.
    And if I ever manage to hold one
    In the warm blue coronet waves
    I'm gonna love her like we both have cancer.