I am a pomegranate.
cut me open.
break my outer skin.

inside of me is my fruit.
the meat of me.
hidden.

dig your fingers into me,
pulling me apart.
ripping me to pieces.

I do not want to be
in your mouth.
feel the heat of your breath.

chew me up.
spit me out.
and leave me empty.

her heart grows
like branches
of a tree.
flowers so
dainty
sprouting
ever so free.
love builds
such a
strong root.
her heart
is filled
so much
and it's
growing
the most
beautiful fruit.

We need more patience
Excitement
An array of food eludes
Prelude to a kiss
At his glance
Strawberry of love
essence

Earthly food cleanser
rinse
Better planning
The host appetizers
Little bites big mouths
Love commanding
Kiss worth
Still crying at birth
Food date
masquerading__

So much posting
postprandial
She is cordial
somnolence.

Your best foods in
France

Love and marriage petit four

The finest ingredients
La pour

Marriage to be obedient

"Patience is a Virtue"

Like a Professor of food,
it's so deliciously

She's the artist melts
and blends
artsy fruity deviant

"Painting the Marriage"
what colors
would you use?

Everything alive
The fruit stays fresh
Changes after awhile
Like your marble tile
The fruit that once was
Big teeth smile
Now got slightly
bruised
and you threw it

Kinda shabby chic used
A love sometimes
not to digest
So spoiled like a pest

A + love so valent.

Like a science within us,
food so good
is desirable
Woodsy Robin Hood

Rich man poor man
Marriages hit the fan
But food talent.
So Lucent
With delicate style
of patience
Our Galley Kitchen Spices

He's like the tycoon of
the magnet

Your eyes sleepy
"Racoon"

Like a magnification of love

He's the Baron with the
richest herd

of sheep's

Your digestion tryptophan

Roses all over the quilts
"I love you"

Being a sweet potato
your marriage

Gold ticket of casserole's
winner lotto

Food significant
deep thought

like the movie role
you're finished

Science the anatomy
perished

The apples of
cider spiced
chilled

More advice
"Applique"
how it's written

is it true?
Or mystique with
magnification

Hot food steams
like a furnace,
different

flavors of taste
The smells come
Strong with intensity

What marriages like
demolition of guilty
breakdown
Breakdown of food less fat
and the right calories

Art shows vibrant galleries
She is cooking up a storm
In her Galley
There she is racing
Mrs.Mustang Sally
Accountant of food
Mr. Tally or Dr. Love
Dr. Who competition
Who knew

Antique art Risque
So divine
things hold low down

He's looking up traffic
moves with shapes
Graphic
The pears divine
Apple pink lady tree
It groves like a
Honeybee how it
(Stings) with mystery
The history of historical cars
Bentleys don't break
my Brooklyn bridges
Variety page of
food mixed
with
Clarrisa & Chutney

But the stars just stay so
Movie Robert Downey
"City of Soho"
**-Oh! No

Marriages come and Divorce's
that once were

Those frequent traveler
to "Rome"
once bare he sees me
there

You breathe out to take another
breath help me

Who is out there to listen

We need to light up
Eiffel Tower to glisten

All you see are new
births to
have and to hold

Everything feels out
of touch but the food is hot

But it's like the time of
depression shot

You keep shredding
more tears still

eating jolly the fine bites
of "Holly"
Jolly Mustang Sally
Parrot Miss Polly
Marriages of food diary
Zen of Topiary
Love to be kissed
with food for thought
Nothing more than love
Cook workout to be sought

Those abdominal crunches
no belly

Apple sparling Sipp
Organic

More marriages built
with love gigantic
Ships for lovers
Titanic

Love became an
assignment

Your quite the product
so regimented

An exotic smell
women's scent
The sense of
Realism present
The soul our heart
Prism
Another soul takes over
Food of empowerment
to address in the kingdom
Wat too much food wasted
And the war goes on with
terrorism
Our futurism
More food and strength
to build this world
Again at birth

Radiating and sparkling food will always be
Energy ;ike no other striking

hands run along the arch

as the skin

of the fruit ripens, the trial these fingers

leave, blazes with a need to follow.



to your light

digest me

and my shadows.

leave your glitter



for me to find.

a year later

take with you

my independence.



conjure the beast of evolution.

as i grip and sink

my teeth into your openings.

savory every drip is.



there’s been a thirst

to restore.

all that was once lost.

now, i wait



while the drought approaches.

from over the mountains

a tainted view, as the clouds part ways.

to reveal all that is ahead.



the future holds with it

a spear of truth.

tempted to pierce all that stands.

before my feet, the love for you



that comes with grief.

seeping through

the walls of my sanity.

until this room is no longer vacant



but before then.

i will cherish the juice that drips.

onto my lips

through this fruitful kiss.

as this sunrise

gives me a blanket of comfort

irreplaceable by women; i bring my head to ground

the presences is seized by the morning.

imagine, your scent to wander this place.

the lavender trails, the roses to follow

the honey to study, the water to admire

and the peach to taste

the skin is ****; the fruits is underneath

to my eyes, it will be a taste to remember

the juice release a call of appreciation

for a touch to outline the color

anxious, impatience, to feel the sunrise it is

on my lips as my tongue believes in it

to be the only fruit left; i will savior every bit

until the peach is ready

but i will not be here

when it will grow it’s garden

for i have fallen in love

and the thought has harden

it will be broken; this love is not meant to be

at least; not in the way that i have felt

my acceptance of news comes with jealousy

i was so hopeful of time to be spent

as the roots unraveled all of their thought

inside of the soil, the exteriors grew itself.

the color diversify what the eye will see

a forest now; enchanting my view with the green

as the scent of the petals ****** my will to resist

i know, that this garden is not home

although; i got to kiss

the sweetest of peaches

i am not yours

so with me i’ll take

all of my love; into my backpack

and travel these roads again

until i stumble on a view; that i have not yet.

but please all that i ask

is you let my trail

not be covered; and let my path be one you remember.

Pineapple makes the roof of my mouth itch / and the tips of my fingers to blush pink / offset by the sparkle sticking juice / these are the kinds of things / reminding me of poolsides /

I can’t leave the way / sunwaves on pavement on skin / sinking into the meat of my body / and under my eyelids / that sigh closed / to the red glow lid / feeling / there’s a twisting shape of my hips / as they flutter in dance / I want to ignore everything but the night sounds / and whisper of lips on iced drinks

I ask myself to leave the patios of mid summer / to check the curtains that slap / and I know what kind of person I need to be / and the sounds of music from another room / spilled like sticky pineapple on your hand / you’re finding you / don’t really want to wash off that other you off / it’s just only these kinds of dreams / making these kinds of noises

I've just gone past my best before,
but I'm still before my sell by;
I may well suit a daring soul
who'll give a Russet a try.

I'm not as smooth my brothers
and not easy to describe,
but if you like it warm and spiced
I may be just your type.

You may detect the odd small wart,
but please - don't be put off;
you'll be surprised how good I look
after a thorough wash.

So take a chance, take me home
and take a slice with cheese;
you'll find from the taste that flows
I'm far more than what you see.

You would not expect
A person to inspect
The apple of a stranger
would be a danger
Despite my kindness
My eyes possess darkness
My stiff arms continue to reach
To offer the fruit you thought to be a leach

I taste the brightness
Of citrus when she smiles,
Almost like a sunrise.

I taste something mournful
When I remember our midnight conversations.  
Blackberries, dark and bitter,
But as the tang fades,
The stain remains.

People say crying tastes like saltwater.
Yes: the stale sting of sweat on my palms,
Tastes like graphite and desperation,
Like expired mangoes,  
And a voice that won’t stop talking.

I remember the ache of
Evenings, lonely and suffocating.
Mornings that I still wake to
Where I dream of breakfast and
Treat myself to black coffee.

It sounds like a braggart king’s
Biggest lie, the taste of death.
It tastes like showering in the dark,
Like metal and blood that won’t wash off,
Like black coffee when I would
Rather have Cheerios.