Strawberries

**NOTE: This is a piece written to be preformed, so there isn't an exact flow or form to it.

Food Poem

I sense succulence,
Summertime strawberries tumbling,
Tenderly,
On tabletops scarred by knife marks,
Old red stains of strawberry blood,
I see flashes,
Light flashing from knives as they bite into skin,
Of juicy fruit that falls apart,
Splitting secretively into slices,
Like poetic devices,
I smell the sugar sweet smell,
Seeds and sorrows mixing,
Devouring the sadness like a bitter pill,
Sugarcoating goodbyes and spaces,
We can’t fill,
Summertime heartbreak becoming,
Beach barbeques,
With red juicy berries, things we wont lose,
Staining teeth like blood from a wound,
Filling our stomachs like any other food,
Why do they grow on us?
Not seeds we can see,
But slowly like trees,
Captivating out minds,
Making us find,
A little sliced of something undefined,
Comfort in the form of a womb,
Berries with us till out tomb,
Disaster may loom,
But heartache, like all the other ills,
Becomes just another bitter pill,
Swallowed by berries, which try to absorb all that kills,
The tabletop fruit deep red and chilled,
Berries to remember, berries to forget,
The lovers’ fruit, comfort food,
They’ll be with us until the end.