i don’t know what the Swiss put in their chocolates, but when i bite into a Lindt ball of white chocolate, my mind is convinced it has achieved an unforseen enlightenment just short of a standard heavenly bliss. Of course, i might also wax poetic about the sensuality of biting into a Rocher Hazelnut creme, but perhaps it is better for me to keep this post platonic. After all, children might be present while you are reading this…
chocolate is not a substitute for love…and though i might long for another Lindt ball, my mouth, like my heart, feels a bit empty. the snow is threatening to come and bury me in, so i must remain here in a chocolate-less house, deprived of the feelings of love.
yes, white chocolate stole my heart
you knew…it was a sneaky little trick
yes, you advertised it all too well
you knew…i would finish it much too quick…
and so i sit alone, alone…alas, my chocolate is nowhere near! how shall i get through the night, without this white chocolate…so scrumptious, so dear?