Peaches

By Melody McCoy-Cole

Soft on the outside, different within,

Juicing out red, pinkness gone,

Giving to powers one two three,

Never getting enough of the growing fruit in me.

Fuzzy blur, daze in the night, drip out the sweetness, bitter right,

Truthful, wakeful, thoughtful too,

But why do I feel so damn blue?

Sorrow songs calling from a black bird,

Slaws sunk in the fruit,

Rot rot, decaying quickly, happiness gone,

No one sees my missing face.

Brown on the edges, no fingers or toes,

 Voice box cut out, no one will know,

Peach core blackened, moldy blue,

My heart shuttered by the earthquakes from my blade and you.

Shut the fuck up before my silenced mouth screams,

A sound no other has ever heard, not even me,

No more black bird, no more peach,

A hard rotten pit to say the least,

Legs, arms, body, all gone missing,

Without a single trace,

I was digested into the stomach of life,

My peach has been erased.

By Melody McCoy-Cole