Love for a sandwich is not like the love between a man and a woman. Although it can be. You know what, it's a complicated issue! I am a sandwich. My love, I want to be utterly consumed by you; I wish you to consume me utterly. I have a fresh, firm bread surface to provide a grease-free purchase for your clean fingers. The smooth golden-brown sheen of my baked roll's crust is the skin that thrills to your two-handed touch. You bring me to your mouth.
Your mouth stretches wide, to accommodate my substantial girth, big with meaty goodness, fat tomato and crisp shredded lettuce and onion, doused with an herbed vinaigrette. You put your lips around me and slide a big bite in, then your teeth shear down in a clean cut right through; and you chew. And you chew. Delicious. The meaty meatiness of the meat. The sublime, fruity mouthfeel of good olive oil; the vivid punch of fresh tomato flavor - none of your supermarket mealy-mush 'maters, here! This is the real garden-grown, vine ripe stuff - and BOY does it make a difference!
As you go in for another bite, I tremble in anticipation. Little bits of me fall out from either side, onto the plate. You bite in again - a surge of bliss! For both of us. Oh, what sweet joy to be food, and to be consumed by you! As I was being assembled from the many parts it took to put me together, all the time I was alive in the consciousness of one goal and one goal alone: my one drive was to be your food. Now, the bliss of that consummation enthralls my senses! I am a sandwich in the process of fulfilling its purpose. I am ecstatic; with every bite I am riven with fresh waves of ecstasy that roll out from me, to crash in your satisfied mouth.
Consume me, darling. Consume me whole. Bite by bite. Or maybe, if I'm a bit too much to take in one sitting...
...we can save a little, for later on.
Your mouth stretches wide, to accommodate my substantial girth, big with meaty goodness, fat tomato and crisp shredded lettuce and onion, doused with an herbed vinaigrette. You put your lips around me and slide a big bite in, then your teeth shear down in a clean cut right through; and you chew. And you chew. Delicious. The meaty meatiness of the meat. The sublime, fruity mouthfeel of good olive oil; the vivid punch of fresh tomato flavor - none of your supermarket mealy-mush 'maters, here! This is the real garden-grown, vine ripe stuff - and BOY does it make a difference!
As you go in for another bite, I tremble in anticipation. Little bits of me fall out from either side, onto the plate. You bite in again - a surge of bliss! For both of us. Oh, what sweet joy to be food, and to be consumed by you! As I was being assembled from the many parts it took to put me together, all the time I was alive in the consciousness of one goal and one goal alone: my one drive was to be your food. Now, the bliss of that consummation enthralls my senses! I am a sandwich in the process of fulfilling its purpose. I am ecstatic; with every bite I am riven with fresh waves of ecstasy that roll out from me, to crash in your satisfied mouth.
Consume me, darling. Consume me whole. Bite by bite. Or maybe, if I'm a bit too much to take in one sitting...
...we can save a little, for later on.
Comments
It's 3:14am.
THANKS.
We're in the same boat! This post and others of its sandwich-touting ilk has been a reproach to me, through so many sandwich-lacking dark hours of the soul.