There Isn't Another Ingredient Poem by Mark Heathcote

There isn't another ingredient
If I don't any longer make you smile
If I don't any longer caramelise your heart
Marshmallow, toast the coals of your soul
I guess I'll have to expedient an end
And let you go.

Darling aren't you the teensiest bit upset
If I too follow you and go cold;
If I too-consider-you've passed your best by date
Because I can't sugar-coat it any more
That you don't love me the same, and I abhor
Looking into your deadpan eyes, insecure.

There isn't another ingredient
There isn't another tangible hot-spice
A cinnamon moon, quite so cool
As to make you drawl,
Hoot like an owl,
Hoot at the stars long-simmering to sing to you.

Darling will you be the teensiest-bit-upset
If I too walk away without any regret
If I too say I'm bored with the same meal
I want to dine and feel, taste something new
Savour something fresh and really, divine
A dessert that pleases me all of the time.

There isn't another ingredient
But darling I ask you, are you still mine
Darling, can't we entwine;
Mix bitter with sweet and reach for the stars
The centre of the universe is ours
If we can-just-reimagine these components tired and supine.