The Donut

The Donut is calling me. It sits covered in its ooey, gooey glaze urging me to partake of its soft, doughy goodness. The Donut is slightly warm, still very soft and very chewy. It wants to be eaten. It begs to be eaten. My teeth long to sink into the sugary pastry. Each bite destined to be a taste explosion in my mouth. I long to bring the soft, golden circle to my lips then savor each delicious bite until nothing is left but the sugary glaze clinging to my fingers. I would bring each finger to my mouth taking in the final essense of The Donut, then long for another.

Oh Donut, you sweet, sugary temptress. Your calories longing to enter my system. Why must you torture me so?