This body, lush apple blossom pouring her sweetness out into the spring
Longing every moment to envelop bees, take their honeyed nectar into my pink folds.
Where is my fulfillment?
The delight of being used, filled, my petals crushed so that they seep out warm summer fragrance.
Will I ever become an apple, fattened, round, juicy and ready to drop life?
What creature will devour me, ingest me, imbibe me to his core, intoxicated?
I can't stop myself, can't stop this process of unfolding my fecund depths,
It's as inevitable as the seasons.
Then I realize:
My body is blooming
but not for you,
not for anyone but because I can,
because I am who I am,
orchard queen seducing the world into fullness.
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