Enduring love and loss.
|See, I allowed myself to be marinated in the buttermilk that is the sourness of your spirit.
And I allowed myself to be dredged in the unseasoned batter that is the tastelessness of your temperament.
And I allowed myself to be deep-fried in the unfiltered oil that is the toxicity of your character.
And you ain't even put no sides with it; No coleslaw, no cornbread, no mac and cheese.
But this dish best served cold won't be revenge, no.
It's gonna be granny's peach cobbler served à la mode.
Feed my soul.
And drink from the healing elixir of life that is the pure joy of self-love.