Cyanide and Frosting

Being her friend
Is like having cake,
But not being able to eat it.

I constantly tell myself
I don't even like cake.

The center's too mushy,
It smells too sweet,
And the frosting tastes like poison.

I force myself to hate every bit of it.

But then, one day,
Someone else decided
To play with my cake.

He chewed it up.
And spit it out.

I was attacked by jealousy,
Robbed of sanity and reasoning.

Which was weird because
I didn't even like the cake.

Or did I?

I had tricked myself into thinking
That I was repulsed by the
Sickeningly sweet delicacy.

But in actuality,

I just couldn't survive knowing,
I couldn't have my cake and eat it too.