A week until the holiday, I’ve got my shopping done.
Bought goodies for the children, some chocolates for my hon;
No skimpy little box, you see, for him it’s all the best --
Two pounds of creamy ecstasy inside a heart-shaped vest.
Five days until the holiday … Oh, no, it cannot be!
A hot flash and a wave of cramps come crashing over me.
I grit my teeth and clench my fists, try not to kill a kid,
I sneak a couple chocolates from beneath the satin lid.
Three days until the holiday, they’re getting on my nerves.
They treat me like a servant girl who fetches, cooks, and serves.
I crave a certain kind of high, got chocolate on my mind.
Perhaps he’ll never notice if I leave no clues behind.
The day before the holiday, I’m frazzled and I’m dour.
It’s raining and it’s Saturday, a minute lasts an hour.
I'm driven to distraction: Oh, how that chocolate mocks!
Something just comes over me -- I eat the whole damned box.
Today it is the holiday, romance is in the air.
My sweetie lifts the heart-shaped lid and reads the card in there:
“This box of candy, once quite full, Alas! Did not survive …
Just be glad your wife’s still here, your children still alive!”
