This chubby glass container; I loved her already.
I felt like saving her for years; shifting her around from shelf to shelf.
In the front one day, lost among all else, another. Always shielded from her fate.
She cried to be let out, and yet, so early in my possession.
The light red shimmer of her. An undisturbed top, screamed for me to let her dance.
I took more than usual and let her have a chance on a warm surface.
I smoothed her over a glistening layer of fat; pushing her to all four corners.
Maybe she spilled over one of the edges. Maybe.
I wanted it to last forever; I saved the densely lathered spots for last.
Oh, how she comforted me.