the pleasure of sliding my finger under
breaking the glue from paper
fingering the crinkle of foil
and anticipating the swell of saliva,
is only equal to the guilt
of eating the weight of my heartache
in chocolate

a symptom of sinking sticky depression
i manage to hold it off
(even if only for a few seconds)
by sharing the contents
of my self medication
with a co-worker

and now i suffer from the post consumption slump.
of having indulged (and then some)
of feeling more bitter than 85% cocoa
and mildly disgusted with
the (growing) pile of
crumpled discarded
colored paper and plastic wrappers
that end up looking
the way i feel

maybe worse.

maybe that’s exaggeration.

i think i’ve found my happily-ever-after


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