you were too much like a nectarine in early summer. All poreless and bright and insinuating sweetness. Filled me up with your secret eruption then shut me down with your sleek silver tongue. Lava barricaded my eardrums, enhancing my blood, fire in your eyes. I was a plum, stealing forth in the wake of your Augustine heat. My tender skin gave way to your deft touch.
But then I bit down, tasted the flesh beneath your glossy sheen and oh how it betrays you! So yellow and unripe, so taut with newness, still clinging to the brightness of dawn, spring-frozen with fear of the darkness of my nectar.
Today I woke up with a magnet in my pitted stomach. Echoes of cold metal scour my throat. That love- -less twang in the aortal penumbras--hope, a refuge swallowed by the ephemeral night. I always knew you were too much like a nectarine in early summer.