Do you not see me sit and consume her?
The ex, the past lover.
I tell you she’s only good on the outside,
That the closer you get to the center No matter how soft her skin, How sweet she is just under her flesh,
She could be perfectly in-season, temptations taking months to taste.
you always find a way to that hard, dark, sour core— Unbreakable by design.
That’s what gets passed on to her next in line, I tell you.
You nod distracted, You aren’t paying attention anymore.
I am beyond being seen, So, I kill her in plain sight.
And in my words, a part of you that still listens understands.
Your subconscious stores her name amongst the other dark things that turn your stomach inside itself and warps the corners of your mouth, sour.
And you finish reading your article.
I crack her in-half and expose the pit, where sweetness could be But she refuses to die easy.
She cuts superficially, and no blood falls from my hands.
Does that make me beyond saving, beyond human?
Or did my body make a pact that there would always be a last time when your name could hurt me?
I eat her until all the soft connecting tissue is gone.
And next time I ask, You tell me, oddly enough,
you don’t eat peaches anymore.