little blue flowers

peachwood on the tongue

it tastes better than apple
more grain to split the skin
an almost smoky, dark flavor
just to tease-just to begin

lovers have fallen beneath its boughs
your mother used to laugh into its leaves
and now it's your turn, duckling,
to spread your legs before it cleaves

them apart with clawed branches
peaches go overripe, squeezing, spilling
groping for soft peach skin
your place will have to do the filling

peach fuzz promises turn hole-ridden
it's too late to turn back time
dry your tears and give it up
i'm running out of rhyme

gooseflesh may prick at your bones
and sting, but do not fret
i'll do my best to make it less painful
maybe even let you forget

that love can shake you awake
and peach blossoms open your heart
to the boy or girl in front of you
love is the most important part

heartbreak won't break you
you will let the impossible fill each lung
and before we have finished in the grove
you'll taste peachwood on your tongue.