Oh,
cardboard container filled
with rounded darkness.
Every bite I take
from your cache of goodies
is like the epitome
of achieved happiness.
No drugs.
No illegal stimulants.
Just a single piece of chocolate
melting away
on my tongue.
Oh,
box of chocolates
you never seem to re-appear
when the holiday season is near.
Not one person,
family excluded,
bothered to scrounge up
the coins to buy you from
the ninety-nine cent store.
And, like me, you are now empty,
wishing someone would fill you up again.
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