The ripe delights of life
Are bursting like the cherry
Ensconced in the drabbest of drab
And highlighted by the bitter color of age
The vibrancy of our juices hidden even from us
What right have they
To pluck us from our nestled perch
And ravage our flesh
The crimson juices of conquest
Dribbling from pursed lips
Carnal drippings of satiated hunger
Leaking life in cherry spurts
Our fingers stain in the blood
The natural juices of our earth
Welling in pools
Of fuchsia red
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