I admit it, I
have an addiction.

Those red, twisted
vines glisten inside
their clear packaging.

They call my name,
beg me to consume.

My taste buds yearn
to touch those strawberry
ridges. My teeth can't
wait to bite the faux fruit.

One after another, they
disappear into the seemingly
endless chasm that
is my stomach, until
nothing is left except
the empty shell of a wrapper.