Peaches
Untouched flesh
Soft and gentle and yet to be bruised,
like a ripening peach.
She is not weak, but she is vulnerable.
The allure of the peaches they cannot escape-
the creatures that come
to corrupt.
They sense it and quietly, slowly, they come,
creep,
multiply.
Creeping they come to invade the cold canvas
empty and open,
defences are down.
They feed as they please and they take what they can
‘This is how we found it
and so, it is ours.’
Nakedness alludes permission
Like clouds of smoke
filling a void
Coming in with the breeze, smoke invades
any space it can
without asking.
Nakedness alludes permission and so, they come;
the thoughts, the feet,
the breath.
A staged invasion behind a curtain of eyelids
deliberately closed,
gaze shifted away.
The peach will rot,
infected by an invisible disease:
‘if we cannot see it, it is not there’
Blind eyes leave her helpless.
And so,
they creep,
they come,
they feed.
Peaches, BM- 16/02/18
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I don’t know why, but this moved me. Your writing touched me. You have a gorgeous mind and I want to thank you for sharing it with the world. You’re destined for great things I think.
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