You lick the icing off the cupcake.
That’s what cupcakes are good for: they are icing delivery vehicles.
Yet there’s also that cake part. You never know what to do with the cake part.
It reminds you of what once was; of the icing; of the sweetness, long since devoured.
You want to eat it again – the same icing! It’s special! Just one more lick; just one more taste.
You want to scoop up some onto your finger; you want to put it into your mouth; you want to let the flavor swirl around…
You wish you took your time more than you did; you wish you savored it more. If you but had another chance, you’d do it right this time!
And the cake.
You are unsure whether to keep the cake for the memory, or to toss it, to rid yourself of this loss.
Perhaps you shall bury it.
Instead, you eat it.
Perhaps, you thought, there are traces of more icing! Perhaps, you thought, these traces would not be spoiled by the cake! That icing, so sweet, so perfect…
But in the end, you swallowed only the bread, the cake, and no more icing.
It’s not the same.
Maybe you’ll buy a new cupcake…
But it’ll still not be the same.
What’s gone is gone.