Quality Street

You ask me what your best quality is
And I tell you you’re a coconut eclair,
Average blue on the outside
Tropical sea foam underneath
Waves roaring to the surface
White sand beaches on sugar-coat shores.

But you say coconut is for
Hipsters and lost souls
Those who lack a refined taste
The commoners of confectionary.
You see yourself as a caramel swirl,
Endlessly smooth, filled with buried treasure.
And I, this is where I come in,
I am the green Bermuda triangle to your
‘life is a box of chocolates’ analogy
That mystery space on the map you
Just can’t pin down, alluring with my
Sharp edges and crackle-foil shields
Just waiting to be discovered and claimed,
Claimed and unwrapped, loved because
I am original and unique
‘not like the others’
A rare species, you call me.

But my three sides are a lie and
You mistook the shade of green I am:
I’m the average one, plain milk chocolate
Or vanilla fudge, family-friendly and
Comforting when you’ve had a bad day.
I’m not your green light and I’m not the
Disappearing space in your head that
You keep trying to navigate even though
The compass needle spins arcing circles
And the stars realign every time you look up.

I do not exist in your praline dreams
Soft centres and chewy toffee fillings.
I am alive, I am real and
I am here
Living out my fantasies in a
Broken little house on quality street.

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