Beloved Butterscotch

As a child, I choked on a piece of butterscotch. It lodged itself in my throat so completely that I could no longer breathe. They brought me back.

Most people would have stopped eating butterscotch after that. I ate more of it.

I would shove five pieces into my mouth at once and wait for them to melt, remembering what it felt like when sweetness became a lump of death.

You, my love, are not unlike my beloved butterscotch.

I know you are not good for me. I know what happens when I let myself have too much of you. Yet every chance I get, I reach for your sweet embrace again.

Some cravings are fed by the very fear they inspire.