more than this and an orange

if my heart were an orange.

tenderness would be the implement of my destruction.

physical tenderness peels the rind away. leaving the pulp. the exposed juicy inside.

i can do without verbal sentimentality. and i like it hard and i like it sensual and i like it sweet but..

physical tenderness leaves me sticky and exposed and everything dribbles out the inside.

i want to be more than i am.

i've been soaking up pleasure where i can get it. but i'm ready to be more than this.

and in the face of that, i am tired. and defeated sometimes. and overwhelmed.

and i don't even know hwere to begin or what it means.

[ previous� �|� � next ]

�

�