While Languishing

While languishing, I find myself (again) forlornly wandering into this room. I spy the one for which I have a yen, but merely watching cannot quell my gloom. A blue, like robins’ eggs, and cherry red, the colors of her roses that entice, adorn the velvet sheet of white that’s spread upon this temptress, stimulus for vice. I know I should be strong and never start, but like some rodent crazed, I want to crawl my way into that center creamy part, then wallow there and feel no guilt at all. But since I'm sweetly beckoned, I partake, my diet foiled by luscious birthday cake.