Mango

Sweet rotten gold, hefty and warm and bleeding itself
Dry like the throat of a songbird. It can sing no more,
But it pinches itself so tears and perfume spring 
Up. It blotches black and hard, handprints of the many
Tugging and milking, like cow udders. Soft sticky skin, 
I ran my thumb over. Hefty and tender.
I could take it between my teeth and
Inhale. Childlike instinct, to seek out honey
Nestled behind your ears.

How sweetly I miss you. I catch someone walking by
And remember it: the date’s flowers, shy
And eager and I smile after swallowing the scent whole.
Delicious fragrance, I bare my teeth and the purple remains
Of petal, I might have gotten hooked.

I cannot escape your scent, and I have a sweet tooth
For that contact between our bruises. I cannot
Escape it, you have marked your territory like a corpse rotting
Somewhere in the room but the floorboard is
All turned up and the mattress has spilled its flimsy guts.