Don't Let Go

No one can have their cake and eat it, too. We are not just having our cake, my love. We are sitting here in the candle light, hiding here in the dark, digging our arms up to our elbows in lucious chocolate syrup and smearing jam and cream over our faces.
One day, one fine day, my delicous friend, someone is going to notice the crumbs on your chin. Someone is going to comment on the wildberry sauce on your sleeve.
The difference we can make now is to chose, and to chose now to stop. Or if not stop, then limit our appetite to the occasional brandy snap. Or if not stop then...

Does the word 'marriage' frighten you?

This is not a wise choice, but an essential one. Because those living on dry bread and tepid water will protest, loudly, if they found out what we are supping on in here in the dark.

Go now, my deluctable love, licking your fingers and wiping your mouth on the back of your wrist, and do not return unless you plan to give me that shiny band of gold that would make our feasting so much less abhorrent to our associates.