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.