Chocolate

Dip me in chocolate. Cover me in sticky cocoa sweetness that will take an entire bar of soap to wash off. Hold my hand as I step into the murky, opaque pool of brown and say sweet things, coax me until I am entirely submerged, up to the roots of my hair. Make me sweet, make me dirty, ruin the clothes I so carefully picked out this morning. Candy and red wine, prepare me like a decadent dessert. But don’t serve me, don’t eat me, don’t enjoy me, don’t savor me. Just leave me covered in calories, let me harden, oxidized like a Hershey bar in the back of the cupboard you bought for a camping trip and never made into a s’more. Let my shell grow rigid and leave me to be found Easter morning, wrapped in brightly colored tinfoil, ready to be devoured, ears first.