Cherries are not the only Fruit

A show of glowing skin
Butterscotch smooth
Salt sweet tongues
Pressed into letterbox oblivion

Laying on the dewy ground
Limbs bruised with velvet kisses
A shortness of breath
With the taste of musk and honey

Cherries are not the only fruit
But when ripe and ready
They blossom, bud and pop
And tear with such agonizing bliss

Pushed deeper into the earth
Until only the tsunami can be heard
Roaring, filling the land with its seed
A hot, violent troubled ocean

Flecked with life's blood
Foaming, falling, dancing
And the crescendo ends
For the first time…