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Amy E Mar 2019
I could eat a dozen
Perhaps I ought, I glance at
The box, white and untouched
Alone on the table, sweet air inside

I can’t help but break the seal
Revealing ****** frosting, perfect lines
Would anyone know if I took
Both a fritter and macaroon?

Lord help me, no restraint
As I grab a fistful
My waistline can’t trust me
My tongue simply yearns
For every single pastry

— The End —