i heard he likes mangoes.
i ate one just to think of him.
to have tasted if his lips are as ripe as the fruit in my fingers humoured me.
i licked the juices from the corners of my mouth as if they were the very seeds that dripped from his core.
i savoured the sweet taste until i, too, began to like mangoes.
YOU ARE READING
baby blue
Poetryupon my death, may you sprinkle my ashes on your pillow, so you can feel me in your lungs and breathe for me as I once did for you. . a collection of poems.
