Words are like fruit,
hanging freely,
really just waiting
to be plucked.
Some tantilize the tongue
with sweetness,
pieces meeting
our mouth with
juicy meaning.
Others leave
a sour shock
to our senses.
When this
bitter biting
heightens
the now rising
sense of
crying,
we recoil.
Curling away
from the
not so ripe
narration.
Patient,
for a  more
cohesive cocktail's
coming.