when taking a big brown bite from the almost deformed eclair
that you held in your trembling indecisiveness
with a weary hope of suppressing the sourness
to sugarcoat the strain of  aliveness
you looked at me wanly through dimly lit dull eyes
killed but metabolically active
never had I witnessed such unhappiness
while eating such delicious dessert
the eclair seemed to put you in a foul mode
bewildered
it had no effect or whatsoever to make this world a better place
when the half of your heart is not in this world anymore
the culprit is the broken heart, not the eclair
reckoning with life
gasping and panting
you shoved me
wincing and grimacing  
as you rubbed your chocolate creamy hands to pull the dirt off your palms