I remember how in my dreams we would climb                     to the top of the prepossessing peak                                 and I would forget how this place so divine                         was just a figment of my poisonous youth.                         But it didn't matter because you'd smell like vanilla           when you'd reach willingly for my shy hand.

If your touch was pure manna to my soul and my hand,           then why did you shame me for making the climb?                 I had thought that I could never lose the scent of vanilla           if I could find you at the top of our peak.                           But the guardian angel of my heart-breaking youth               was never a creature so graceful and divine.

I'm so foolish for thinking I'd be able to divine                       by looking into my ignorantly seeking hand                       why always my malfunctioning youth                           claimed you could my take heart and climb                           to the top of our very own peak                                       and explain why my silver crayons drew red on vanilla.

I was intoxicated by your sweet-smelling vanilla                 and I thought we could be divine.                                     You unknowingly brought me to that unholy peak               with my heart still clutched in your beautiful hand               and you'd tell me while we both made the steep climb         that I was stupid for following the figments of my youth.

I fell down forever, wondering why I let my youth                 be lured by a merciless cloud of vanilla.                               If in my dreams I dared to make the sharp climb,                 I'd be reminded that my side was never divine                       in the one-sided shake made with your ghostly hand             and I cursed the day I ever found that peak.

You still find a way to torture me at my peak                         because you know deep down I'm stuck in my youth.               If the day ever comes when you've outstretched your hand,   I'll help you remember that for one so divine                       you could never even learn to take just one climb.

And now I'll wonder why I saw your hand as divine,             and why I had to climb so long to realize that vanilla at its     peak isn't as good as strawberry.