Flowing – A poem about infidelity

When you picked me, you had the choice of so many.

All you had to do is use me as I wanted to be used, and not commit the worst sin, casting aside. You now cut me as if I were an over-ripe nectarine, burst skin, exposed soft inners.
You press on me with your rusty bacterial blade and finally I give way

as you clumsily slice through my flesh to the core of my creation and stop with jerk,

sliding off to the right to meet yet more flesh.  

I am damaged forever never to be savoured or re-planted.

I will bear no more fruit for anyone and now lie open, unwanted, exposed and bruised

my life flowing away from the tainted, crumb covered, rancid stained sideboard, dripping onto a dusty red quarry tiled cracked floor.

My sweet liquid – now forming a seance around your discoloured, discarded, dirty, degenerated, and dogged cigarette butt,

as my nectar mixes with your vile dna and nicotine on the filter – unable to heal.

You callous consciously caved, calculated and cocooned carnivore with no love for the beauty and health that I offered.

The flesh that you destroy will consume you in time.

©PEDRO-BATPOET 2018

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