You are round, plump
dimpled, shiny
irregular sphere, imperfect.
You intice me.

You smell fresh
crisp, cold
softness holding back.
You make me hunger.

You sound quiet
serene, peaceful
wildness inside a skin.
Your juice sloshes inside.

You taste cold
juicy, sweet
acid burning cuts on lips.
You are pleasing.

You feel squishy
firm but forgiving
a small round scar.
You fit my hand.

Your hat fell off
the stem on your top
left a round hole
the same size as your scar.

You appeared
flying through the air
plop! in my hand.
I caught you.

Rolling down my page
my pen marked you
purple pen
on orange skin.

I peel you open
pull off your threads
separate your sections
one by one.

I line up your sections
in a circle on my plate
going around
you look like a flower.

I eat you
each section one by one
I suck out your juice
and throw your skin away.

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