Huge thorny sweet chestnuts bloom As blackberries wither on the briar Lightly dusted in silver and sagging Off the stalks. The path lined with oak and bramble. Wonderful hues of brown and gold Are now littered against green. The air is cool and moist As autumn gathers around.
The sigh of things gone, echoes of hope and the small prickles of a blackberry as I turn it on my tongue between knives of teeth. I reach further into the bracken, The tangle of thorns caressing, hooking themselves into my clothes, These are familiar pains, Small scrapes of memory. Petrichor, a reminder of our last walk The clouds, tremendous waves breaking across the sky, coming storm The plucked magnolia blossom wilting in my hand How bitter it tasted on our tongues I saw the berries, then, crimson unripe jewels Vowed a Persephone return when they had turned onyx And came back alone while you languished In your underworld.
I can find sweetness amid the pain, What have you found To sustain yourself ?
Stop looking at me as if I’m some - thing to swallow up or spit out. A berry, black, swollen ready to be chosen for your consumption. I sour on your tongue, assaulting your taste buds because you thought the only - thing that mattered was the purplish black, the juice that produced for your pleasure, my ripe, plump bumps, my green hands outstretched ready and there, for you? Still you pluck and **** and stare and **** me up with your barren compliments stripping my sweet substance one by one by one, you extract it out of me