Ripe With Me
I was once secured by the way you held me. The way you lifted me up in pride, and in partiality. I was secured in the way your soft spot for me made its appearance in your smile, and your pulses.
Your soft spot was like that of a peach. You were ripe with me. And like that peach, I breathed in all your flavors and all your bruises.
I tasted each bit, the sweet, the predictable. I tasted the dejected. I tasted the self indulgent and the disenheartened.
But still, I loved you. And still I love you.