Hot Chocolate
A stranger once offered me
A cup of hot chocolate.
He looked awfully familiar
So, smiling, I accepted it
As I gaze at the light drizzle outside.
But the boiling brew
Warmed my body not
Nor it unfroze my cold, lonely heart.
It was molten live coals. Furiously it burnt
On my tender pink.
Wincing, I
Drew back but, oh!
Too late.
Rich, milky, burnt-sienna
Had scalded pale pink
So badly it left a lasting
Sting
And an icy-cold heart.
I take no more hot chocolate
From any stranger ever since.
Tongues and lips heal
But not hearts.
Mine never thaws.
And what stings more
Than the bitter, dark, hell-brewed chocolate,
Bubbling-hot and vicious on dear lips,
Is how I now see that
Everyone is a stranger to
Me.
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