It's hard when

Our fingers are so intertwined between each other's that we no longer recognize what is mine and what is yours, until

They are merely wrinkled, blue stubs begging for release and fresh air

And a little care because

A little freedom never hurt anybody.

Yet, it's funny how you say

That it is significant proof of our die-hard love for each other, that because of our blistered hands we are the next Barbie and Ken, that we

Will be the next big thing in this world of romance and love when actually

My body screams to be let go of, be free from this parasite we've dubbed 'our relationship', and yet

I can't.

Because if this is love, I wanna be in it.

I have to.

My mother, father, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins - they're all counting on me to finally, finally fulfill my role in this universe, which is

To love and marry and birth my children unto the world,

Even if I don't know what love is.

Our relationship, my dear, is like a pretzel, coated in a generous blanket of milky white chocolate.

To the people peering at us outside the thick glass, mouths watering, eyes gleaming with desire and want,

They believe that we are the sweetest, most craved item of all, that we

Are the very thing they desire to be but please, do take a bite

And you'll taste the tears and the sweat and all the energy spent just to ensure this "relationship" could breathe on without hitch.

And the tangled structure, the tied knots that struggled between us just simply could not untie themselves.

Somewhere along the way, you had glued us together with your honey sweet words that it no longer became any form of commitment but rather

An imprisonment because

I am here and I am stuck within this display of affection, of endlessly showing off to everyone how happy we are when in reality

I am sick of this sweet, sugary taste that is being forced unto my tongue.

In my mind, I always picture somehow escaping your tightly clenching grip,

Running through the city streets in silence, dissolving into the night until I am nothing but a fragment of the past for people to forget and forgive,

Let the bitterness that has piled from within me possess me for once, leave me screaming, leaving, demanding to be set free!

Because I have always wondered how freedom tasted like, how

The air flowing between the gaps of my teeth would send rippling sensations throughout my entire body,

How the sunlight would feel on the tip of my tongue.

Yet at the end of the day, I know, the tears of my family would drive me insane, so

Let it be.

I've never been one for desserts but it's okay.

In the name of love and in the name of family,

I shall not run free, even if

My fingers finally start falling off from the lack of oxygen flowing within, even if

My blood eventually becomes too sweet for a normal human to live.

Somewhere out there, there might be a nice, humble bagel to fit in with the cup of bitter coffee that I truly am but I suppose

I'll have to make do with a pretzel instead.

A/N: I know it's been a long while since you requested this, Lilia but I eventually pushed myself to start writing this. I was initially going to make a piece regarding pickles but then the idea of pretzels just sparked something within me, so...here you go, haha!

So, I hope this was satisfactory, haha. If anyone has any other food items they wanna give me as prompts, I am all ears. :)