Human shaped chocolates.
Some things ain’t meant to be savored.
I have this thing about chocolate. When I was a kid I would eat chocolate covered candies and the strawberry ones too from church. I guess as an adult I expected everything to be sweet, everlastingly amazing and covered in chocolate.
I expected my lovers to be chocolate paradises in which I could swim with and to. Landing in their love like fruit on the stick, or marshmallow bits, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I fall for chocolate quickly.
If only it were that sweet.
I cave to the smell like Willy in that factory and for once I wish nobody worried about my sweet tooth. I was stuck on the queer version of finding it in a bookshop or like water for it when it melted over bodies and caused love to have an anatomy.
I ached for romance that made chocolate the forefront player. Yes you got me the roses and the box of chocolates, congratulations and I know you love this chocolate. I had a thought though, just for a moment — human shaped chocolates belonged in the trash.
If only I were that sweet.
We use each other as garbage anyway, right? Taking the wrappers off the not so sweet ones, biting into the ones we know we really don’t want, and leaving around trash for others to pick up and deal with?
I’ve wanted chocolate to still remain rich no matter what season of life I’m in. I know we take the best chocolate’s and freeze them for a lonely night in, or to binge watch a show. But what do we do after? Do we cry because we have no more? Do we doordash with the extra fees because to get something sweet you have to still “pay up”?
I guess what I’m really getting at is that through this lens of the scale, human shaped chocolates aren’t enough. I want the processed, cocoa goodness because human shaped chocolates taste bitter, like the lime that you thought would cut through the taste of alcohol on a late friday night.
Human shaped chocolates don’t last for too long, and they seem to melt if your adoration gets too strong, or gets too comfortable and I guess they become iceboxes to survive the damage of “fragile packaging” that you never even put them in.
I still have this thing about chocolate. Maybe I can get my granny to help me understand but knowing her she’ll say “maybe too much chocolate wasn’t in God’s plan” but like what does the riddle mean when I thought I was getting something sweet and carefree?
A delectable treat that once made me close my eyes filled with magic and imagination, now turns to me and asks if I’m prepared to deal with the expiration date?
I’ve had enough of human shaped chocolates cause’ some things ain’t meant to be savored.