I remember my mom bought this old dusty book for fifty cents at a yard-sale;

Now, the title of this book was 100 Classic Fairytales.

So, if I ever got restless and my mom just wanted peace,

She’d simply whip out that book and read a story to me.

As she’d read I’d slowly drift off to sleep, but my young imagination would carry the stories into my

 dreams.

I mean, I thought up some fantastic things. And a few of them I even lived out!

Like this one time I swear I got trapped inside a gingerbread house.

Imagine walls made from milk chocolate and floors of French Vanilla Ice-cream.

Whip-cream and icing dripped from the ceiling.

A house with gum drops as deadlocks and poisoned apples in a bowl.

 

As my body melted on top of yours,

Our sweets began to taste like they’d been dipped in misery and soaked in sorrow.

Then the illusion was broken; we’d nourished each other’s bodies but forgot about our souls.

Our broken spirits combined, but we never became whole.

Now I see that you clearly don’t have the nutrients I need or the love that I seek;

You can’t nourish me! And your sweetness is worthless since you’re so incomplete!

 

Our relationship fell into a predicament that we can’t fix

So instead I’ll face the consequences.

Wow, my sugar so quickly ended.

And as I stumbled back into the real world today,

My gingerbread house slowly crumbled into decay.

I feel stomach pain and gut wrenching heartache.

 But it was well worth it, because I know candy expires and happy moments fade;

All good things must end. And there’s just no other way.

As life leaves my body and I become weak, I wonder how many couples realize that death tastes so

 sweet.