I want the pulp of you
Your stringy white insides
I want the lattice of your creation  
To get stuck in my teeth
I want to savor every sliver of you  
The parts of you that need a warning
The versions left on the shelf
The bits of you that blend in with the fruit
But pack a punch
I want to relish in the chewy remnants of a skin you shed long ago
I want to peel back your orange shell
And taste the tender threads that hold you together
I want to drink your syrupy nectar
To gnaw away the sweet parts
Right down to the rind of you
And swallow the secret pomace of your heart

A flower behind the eye
Roots in the skin
Seeking water not spoiled by sweat and tears
The touch of my lover
The softening of thorns for her handling
The shade of branches for her slumbering
I grow gentle in her arms
Under her gaze
I grow further from the ground
Bloom and flourish and shriek for her
A flower behind the eye
Torn from it roots
Settled in a quiet place
Brushed softly behind her ear

Rubble of mine,
crumble and divide.
Afflictions turned armies,
burdens turned shields.

Rumblings of a new world,
the ground sure to split in half.

Through a crack,
the afterglow appears.

A single new leaf,
born out of calamity,
tightly wound into itself,
begging for sanity.

Emerge a saviour in me.
Lick my wounds,
and salve my despair.

Look beyond my walls,
and find a warrior there.