He’d never much cared for strawberries
He didn’t like their sweetness
But that summer, her lips were so stained with their juices that they were all he tasted
And he’d never had a favourite fruit
But two summers later, another girl laughed with him and asked
‘If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?’
And he remembers how her hand traced the veins in his neck and made their way across his chest.
He remembers her soft breathing and limbs draped across his shoulders
‘Strawberries.’ He tells her.
‘I could live on nothing but strawberries.’