StrawberryThe color seemed off.
Not that it was too red, or too pale,
But that it was too
An exact shade of pinkish red
That one would associate with this fruit.
Like a crayon from a box,
With the name Strawberry inked
In block letters by its base.
The seeds were a well-spaced pattern,
Like sequins on a designer gown,
Even the temperature was curiously flawless.
Refrigerated, but not obscenely cold.
Have you ever had to lick ice crystals
Off an otherwise delicious piece of fruit?
It alters the experience
I pressed the berry to my bottom lip,
Testing the softness.
Pinching the leaves, I opened my mouth.
Into a delectable fraise.
Poetry by Katherinee x
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Written on 2012-01-16 at 22:11
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