Plum

I know who
you really are.

though euphemisms
may run and scurry
for cover, refusing
to abdicate desire.

I know the real you
sitting
on my lifeline
smooth and moist
tantalizing.

With each nip
I watch you eclipse
from deep mad
to deeper anger,

then
you bleed into
yellow pulp;

and make me crave
you all the more
and covet your sweet
succulence;

I sigh and groan
while your pregnant nectar
seeps pass my
parted lips.