Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Torture

Why do You taunt me?
It seems like every time I get my hopes up, a moment later they’re crushed. It seems so clear, the answer is yes, and I thank You. I am happy. But all too soon everything changes. Why? Why do You play this game with me? It’s not fun. It’s as though You are my teacher handing out a test. You lay my paper on my desk and I see a circled A… but then You take Your red pen and mark a gigantic F across the page. Everything is shattered.
Why do You taunt me?
You are a baker. You pull out a steaming apple pie from the oven and cut me a slice. You serve it to me, the steam rolls up into the air and the delicious scent drifts to my nose. My hunger is intensified and I lick my lips anxiously. As I reach down to dive my fork into the crumbling piece of pie, You pull it away just before I reach it. You tell me it’s not healthy and not good for me. You toss the whole pie out.
Why do You taunt me?
Stop playing with my heart. It’s sore from all this pushing and pulling. Just let me be. Give me a solid answer. None of this yes, woops change my mind, no business. Give it up. I’m done playing.

Written 3/15/10

1 comment:

  1. Mm hmm... stop pulling that dumb pie out from under us! Your writing is so descriptive I can taste that apple pie right now, make that a berry apply crumble! :) Love you!

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