I want cinnamon too much.

I want too much cinnamon.

Someone offered me a piece of pie.

I eyed it, and pretended not to care,

But I smelled cinnamon,

And from way over here

Where my face is,

To way over there

Where your face tries to hide,

I sense the faraway twigs of cassia bark

That have collided to make each milligram of cinnamon.

I am thankful,

But greedy,

Jealous over every dash

And jot and tittle

Of cinnamon splashed out

Over the apples.

I'm needy, today.

I want cinnamon too much.

I want too much cinnamon.

-jenn