The Devil resides between layers of chocolate cake,
moist, yielding, the promise of melting in my mouth.
Hunkered down in creamy, dark ganache,
he knows I am weak.
He lurks down dark alleys and lonely streets,
shadowy, making noises unseen.
Dredging up feelings of fear and uncertainty,
I hesitate, cower, and turn toward more traveled roads.
He waits beyond steep mountain curves,
sheer and achingly beautiful.
I grip the door of the car harder, looking straight ahead
as he laughs at the scenery I have missed.
It is all a game to him,
To overcome or be overcome.