Dear Cheesecake,

I see you sitting there on the counter. You are surrounded by many other delectable treats covered in chocolate, cherries, or whipped cream. You are decorated ever so beautifully with little raspberries. Tempting? Yes. As I pass you by slowly, you realize that my plate is so filled with salad, that there is no room for you.

I eat my lettuce, tomatoes, sugar snap peas and cucumbers spritzed with salad dressing spritzer. Only 10 sprays. 10 calories. I nibble on my petite sized roast beef and carrot dish as I sip on my diet soda. I wipe my mouth to prepare myself for our meeting. Yes, that's right. I came back for you my sweet raspberry cheesecake.

I feared that as I used the knife to sliver the skinniest piece possible that you would crumble under the blade. You survived the .5 centimeter width and I gently tossed you into a bowl and grabbed a napkin and fork on my way to my table. The first bite was just shy of the feeling you get when you close your eyes while swinging on a tire swing in the middle of July, cool while warm and heavenly. The second bite is just as sweet as you melt on my palette. Each taste bud bursts with ecstasy.

I take a third bite. Look down at the bowl and realize I'm done with you. You have served your purpose. I throw the other half of you in the trash. Cheesecake, you are wonderful, but I don't need a whole lot of you because you cause an addiction for my mouth that I can not feed. I do not feel guilty about our intrigue today. We shall be together again.