Ficly

My Core (Fruit Poem)

I lie here
expecting, terrified,
speckled with doubt,
scratched with fear and anxious anticipation.
Without hesitation, you
tear right through me
to reach the part you crave, I
lie here and let you
find each crevice and opportunity.
The blood in my veins turns to acid
as your enthusiasm begins to soften
and my once-lively soul begins to brown.
Now a bruise runs straight through to my core,
soft and tender.
Now the taste of your skin
mixes with the scent of my pain
as the pieces of me
lie cold and forgotten.

This story has no comments.