My orange cake

Do you know what it’s like when you try to remember the taste of that orange cake your mother used to bake on Friday mornings? and its smell that woke you up from sleep and dragged you right into the kitchen? So you spend the rest of your days looking for a cake that might taste like your mother’s famous orange cake, and although you might come across a cake of the same ingredients, the same look might even smell the same! but deep down you know it’s not your mother’s hands that baked it, something doesn’t feel right but that never stops you from your journey to find that goddamn orange cake because it’s not the cake you’re desperately looking for, it’s the memories you had on those Fridays, that inner peace, the happiness, the warmth, the love. And not all the orange cakes in the world could ever make you feel the same way again.  It’s impossible.

That’s how I feel about you. All the one night stands I’ve been wrapping around my body won’t make me shiver the same way you did. All the lips I have kissed after yours… No mouth could wash off the taste of your tongue off of mine. No touch could feel like your soft skin.

We all have beating hearts but I just can’t hear the same pounding of yours in any human being. You’re my orange cake and I’ll never have you again.



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