They love my food

I set the freshly made cookies down in front of them,

they smile. 

That smile makes me feel warm, happy, it makes me feel full,

I hope the food does that for them at least, if I, myself am not enough to give that feeling.

I watch them begin to eat,

waiting in anticipation for their reaction.

They look at me,

and take a bite, I hear a groan of satisfaction from the taste. 

I pause...

...

...

I get the warm feeling again,

they liked my food.

Do they like me? 

Probably not,

that's okay.

I leave to bring them a different snack,

I bring small pastries.

That smile again reappears,

I just need to bring food and that will bring the smile back.

I hold back the words that threaten to spill from my mouth,

instead I hand them the food.

They continue to eat happily.

I can only watch feeling the words on the tip of my tongue,

fighting to escape.

But they don't have to because they speak,

"I'm so glad, I have fallen for someone who can cook."

I pause...

...

...

The words are choking me,

I must speak though.

"I love you." 

It's out, 

I can't take it back now.

They look at me and smile,

"I know," they reply.

I stare,

how would they know?

"It's in the way you cook."

They said it so simply,

like I have been spelling it out for them this whole time just by the way I cook.

"What do you mean?"

"It's simple, you give your all in every plate you make me. I watch you while you work, you work and work for perfection. Every single ingredient you add your affection, your love. And then you sit, wait, and watch me eat this food, hoping I will love it. Because if I love the food, then maybe I love a part of you."

I smile,

they are right. 

I love them,

they love my food.

"I love you too," They tell me.

I freeze...

1 second...

2 seconds...

5 seconds...

7 seconds...

I love them,

they love me.