It’s playing with explosives,
trying a bite or two…
no, honesty here. A sweet roll
or two, ice cream, a sugary treat
when the counting’s been done,
the tabs turned in. It’s flirting
with disaster, these lapses,
accepted without panic,
pride coming when it’s just one item
no matter how big, an old haunt
revisited. It’s set to explode,
these careless food behaviors.
I’ve not yet found the honesty,
the willingness, the recovery
not to play the flirt sometimes,
not to give up the sugar today
each today that comes.
