In all of my years foraging for love
I never knew that something unrequited could be so delectable.
I almost hate myself for it,
For being a boisterous child shoving wild berries down her throat
Even though she knows she is allergic.
Even though she knows this will end, not in sharp pains,
Or admirable anaphylactic shock,
But in a slow, lethargic stalemate,
One where she can no longer eat her beloved wild berries, even though they are her favorite.
She will only be able to lie on the rugged forest ground,
Throat scratchy from the journey down,
Tongue swollen while uttering sweet nothings about the sweetest of nothings,
And face taut in a smile, both regret and satisfaction braided into her teeth.
Even though I hear of a grandiose station connected to expansive tracks,
Where trains come every hour, on the hour, with the ability to carry passengers to farther forests,
Where they say there are better berries,
I hesitate to step forward and board one.
For I have tried other berries before, but none of them have been as painfully pleasurable as the ones I eat now.
These round berries resemble that of a Venn diagram, one where self-loathing and self-pleasure
lie starkly in one spot, inseparable from these cursed Ericaceae.
No other berries have left me wanting to endure harm for their flavor.
No other berries have been this addicting and exciting, eliciting such volatile responses from its consumer, high and low.
Despite these berries not wanting me to eat them, my body and mind rejecting them the more and more I eat,
I’m afraid I don’t know how to stop eating them,
And I’m afraid I don’t know how to stop wanting them, either.
I know I will stop eventually, but I’m not sure that’ll be a decision of my own doing.
The flavor will no longer resemble that of my earlier endeavors
And then I will probably still force a couple more down my throat before boarding a train
Moving on to farther forests, where they say there are better berries
Ones that are more pleasure and less pain
And healthy, instead of addicting, with extraordinary taste,
And do I believe I deserve these berries? More or less.
But, truth be told, I don’t know if they exist.
