As I stare into them I feel a sweet sense of regress,

And yet your skin is still fresh, that light brown body,

Simply carved into perfection by some higher power.

Your scent, of spice, whispering tales of foreign places,

Causing senses of delight in many smiling faces

And as I move you closer to me, I yearn to taste you

But I know if I start

There will be no stopping me.

Your clothing is minimal,

Your invisible jacket confuses me, but it must be there, as it has visible buttons,

But I don’t care,

As you are there,

And when I have eaten you all up, your many clones will stare at me from blessed windows around every town and city.

As you are my gingerbread man.

And you taste so sweet.