I’m going to live life until it bursts— softly place it between my teeth and bite down until it pops so its juices flood and trickle out the corners of my mouth.
I’ll revel in my sweet, sticky mess— stained cheeks, glazed chin— leaving my mark on everything I touch. Others will insist I clean up, keep my hands to myself, act act like act like a act like a lady.
But as long as there is life to taste, I refuse to chew with my mouth closed.