You smile sweetly,
“Aww, cupcake, just one bite”
and with your outstretched arm, offer a token
of friendship and love – a white spatula,
heaped with mounds and mounds of vanilla frosting.
Tentatively, I lean forward for a lick, and
with one deft motion,
I am left
staring at your smirk,
with icing in my nose.
The skirmish quickly escalates.
Taking the frosting on my face for ammo,
I quickly retaliate,
grabbing your arm to s m e a r on the white goo.
You launch a full scale attack.
Utilizing a kitchen chair to deflect,
like a ringmaster with a tiger,
you maneuver around the kitchen table.
But my attack still succeeds,
as frosting suddenly appears
in a streak
across the side of your face.
After numerous casualties,
supplies are exhausted.
We meet at the sink for peace talks.
A no fault treaty is agreed on,
both sides assisting in clean up efforts.
As I wipe frosting from your hair,
these are the moments in which life resides.