"I am yet ripe"
one of you said so
all the while
I saw a teardrop sliding down your cheek
You are the fruit of heaven
But you do know your destiny is to be eaten
born to be devoured
the flesh swallowed and the pip spit and forsaken
severance between the flesh and the core
Perhaps the doomed-to-be-consumed flesh is overall corpulent
the succulent fruit expectorates crimson blood
screaming to leave somewhat (re)mark of resistance
Little do you know
that stain is so easily removable
any bleach or detergent can wash off
the cry the spot the smudge the blood
a total clean removal
Given it time
your flesh will be part of m(in)e
As for the carcass
to which is clung
by sparse, remaining flesh
along with the pip, your core
I will discard it to the rubbish
without a blink
For me
it is
totally inutile