She waits to be picked
I mean
Picked up
Across 27
She knows "Arduous journey" is a trek
But she doesn't know
They're talking about us.
She's not going to make it in one piece
Sorry, Doll

I remember how
I just wanted to touch it
Then I wanted to taste it
soft and so between my fingers
press down
brown prints
Into her peach skin

Who's trek are we on again?
"Was it mine?" She asks
I take another bite
Yes, she loves me
"Ours, Doll."
Down 39
"Designed to fall apart"
All too easily