There come days when, despite all the efforts

I squeezed the empty milk carton in frustration. All I needed to do was say "hi." What could be more simple? Determined, I pushed my tray aside and jumped up, spilling gravy all

over myself and my beloved. "GRAVY!" I cried in vain, as words failed me. Her eyes were ablaze, but at least I knew she was looking at me, perhaps for the first time, and I melted.

I literally melted. I was a puddle on the ground, bubbling from the heat of the sun. "I need to tell you something, I-Ive been in love with you all this time... I" she stopped me.

"That's sweet, honey, it really is," she said. "But how am I supposed to make love to a puddle?" I tried to shrug my shoulders at her remark, but all I could do was splash her.

At least I got her all wet.Our relationship could never be deep & I wasn't sure what she saw in me.I had the impression it was all about herself, but I just tried to go with the fl

ow, you know. She reminded me a bit of Farrah Faucet and although she could often damper my ego, Iittle ripples swam up & down my spine when she smiled. She made me moist. She

made me golden. She made me flavorful. And when she finally iced and sliced and ate me with those perfect teeth of hers, I thanked the day I became her cake. Her insides were too

gorgeous for words & as I made my journey down her alimentary canal, gradually being subsumed, I dreamt of forever being her cupcake. But no... it was the ultimate rejection

being lactose intolerant but wondering how much dairy you really were. When night came even the stars condemned you brightly even though they still sought your Eye.