I am hungry for closeness, emotional and physical. I am hungry, but it’s OK. This is a lean time, a time to fast. I subsist on the breadcrumbs I pick here and there.
And here you show up with what appears like food. It smells nice. It looks nice. It’s so close, I can feel the warmth and can’t resist taking a bite: it’s tasty.
But I know it’s poison. And you know that, too. How can you not?