Velvet sunlight in my palm,
a golden globe, blushing
with the scent of summer.
One bite—
nectar floods like monsoon rain,
dripping down my chin,
hot, sweet, unstoppable.
It tastes like July.
Like heatwaves resting on your tongue,
like skin kissed by dusk.
Flesh so tender it trembles,
ripe and reckless,
honey tangled in citrus silk
and firelight.
The juice—
a soft explosion,
a sunbeam melting into flesh,
a kiss that lingers.
I lick my fingers
like a prayer,
grateful,
greedy,
laughing.
It’s not food.
It’s a spell,
a secret,
a world inside a fruit.
I close my eyes
and the taste stays—
warm, wild, alive.
