Have races with yourself to see how many words you can get on to the page. Take a visual symbol from a magazine and then write for ten minutes without stopping.
Desire, inspire, I’d write songs about you, poems about and when I take you in my hand and raise you to my lips I wonder…
How many calories are you exactly my dear?
Will you make me fat? Diabetic? Will I gorge myself on you until I burst?
Are you made from scratch or did you come from a box shipped from a factory in an anonymous town on an anonymous road that Google couldn’t find if it tried with all of it’s Googley talents?
Is your frosting sweet and fluffy or crunchy and stale, like a piece of last year’s Halloween candy stuck to the bottom of a plastic Jack-O-Lantern?
Who created you and why?
Did they weep for joy the first time they tasted you? Decorated you? Did they swoon with love the first time they put you on your specially designed pedestal for all the world to see?
Did they truly see you? Appreciate you?
Did the world admire you as much as your creator?
Could they possible understand what a magnificent creation you are?
I love you my dear sweet Red Velvet Cupcake.
Nothing created on this Earth has enchanted me as completely you have.
You might not have a face, lips, you can’t keep me company or warm.
But I don’t care because….
I can sink my teeth into you and take you bite for bite or I can pop you into my mouth and drain the frosting from you before I chew and crush you to a fine red paste
a thing about it.