How lovely it feels to be in control-
to twist the tip between my fingertips
with sweet nectar spilling from my lips.
I bury my teeth into the flesh of the fruit, juice sweet with God's sugar when it gushes and drips, swallows and spits, with honey pouring from my hips.
Each second absorbed with a savory slowness, soaking in the soul, absolute and soft.
Strawberries swelling with seeds.
Swallow the fruit,
the juice,
the feeling.
So when your mouth is kissing the stem and you've eaten all the fruit,
you sing "good-bye" when you flick the leaves away,
but it sounds like "get out, get the fuck out the way".
Then you clear your throat and you pucker your lips,
hungry with a taste for a sweet strawberry kiss.