The German chocolate cake tempts me.
I crave it at those times of day when I desire distraction from work,
Or when alcohol has eased my inhibitions
The German chocolate cake sits in front of me,
Stacked high and covered with a smooth frosting
I must have it.
As I move to fulfill my want
I realize too late
that it is merely a hostess cupcake.
Even then- its individual packaging appears to be just for me.
The white icing draped on the top of the cake is familiar, and comforting.
I tear off the wrapper, and the crinkle of the plastic nearly excites me.
But before I can even take the first bite I am disillusioned:
I bring the cake towards my mouth but there is no deep chocolate smell,
I can feel no moist cake perfection.
The first bite confirms,
The brown colored bread merely alludes to the dark chocolate I desire
And the white cream is a distraction from what I really want.
I finish it nonetheless. Unsatisfied,
I reach for the second cupcake and finish that one off too.
Although I am not satiated, I am full.
It is not until the sugar high has worn off that
I sit with the empty wrapper and once again look for the
German chocolate cake.
But it's not there. It never was.
