I peel you slowly,
thumb pressing into dimpled skin,
the scent loud and bright,
sharp, sweet, something easy.
You come apart in pieces,
segments in my fingers,
soft, rough,
never quite whole, never quite broken.
The juice lingers on my fingertips,
a taste that carries.
Some fruits fade fast,
but you stay.
the sweet like honey taste with a tang,
drip into morning light,
float in the cracks of time,
thick and bright.
Seeps into unseen wounds,
And stings.
a taste that stays.
lingers longer than it should.
a scent in the air,
a language only we understood.
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