To the Biscuit That Tried to Do Me In

Dear biscuit, 

Two years ago, when I discovered I was allergic to you, I thought I had seen the last of us. I know, I can’t even blame you. We broke up. You honored my words. I sought you out. 
It was a moment of weakness. I needed to take some pain meds given to me by my dentist. It was a moment of weakness, but there you were. I smelled you floating around the parking lot outside of Popeyes- minding your own business. But you may as well have been Lloyd Christmas from Dumb and Dumber, bent over at the bar, putting out the vibe in your blue leisure suit. 
Your buttery, salty aroma drew me in. I tried to make light of the effects I knew you would have on me. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, we could be close, and I would only have a small tickle in my throat or itchy ears. 
But, no. You came with a side of gravy. Wheat. Filled. Gravy. I caved. I slathered you. Dipped you. Savored every. Last. Bit. I told myself it was just this once. 
I can’t do this anymore. 
It’s over. You hurt too good. I took my chances and let down my guard to let you in. And how do you repay me? A sinus infection, two ear infections, and two ruptured eardrums. 
Oh, biscuit. How could you? Wheat is for jerks. Please, just let me go. Make it a clean break. I need to make a new life for myself. 
I’ll always love you. 
A Sucker For Flaky Crusts
PS I can’t quit you. Tell Donut I say, “hello”. He’ll know what it means.