Wednesday, November 16, 2011

November 16 2011 Grapes

She stands out in conformity
The skin-tight green hangs tightly to formation.
“hold on, hold on,” she whispers to me meekly.
A coxcomb flap holds all its sweetness inside.
“Crush me and I will yield everything to you,”
She says with drunk eyes sparkling from possibility,
Her sticky sweetness a dangling smile,
Contrasting her thick pudding skin of earth.

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