You, sitting on the kitchen’s marble counter
staring at me through your thick, transparent walls.
You are vanilla ice cream with peanut butter cups swirled in fudge
with a perfectly ripe, heart-shaped strawberry gently placed.
You, flowing whip cream around three sculpted scoops
with the crunch of ivory colored macadamia nuts.
You are a heavenly dessert making me drool.
You, melting to a soft, watery cream.
I grab the sundae dish, but...
I trip on a worn out shoe.
You are flying.
Gone.
You slowly seep through
the cracks in my dirty kitchen floor.