overindulgent

The fruit is so perfect.

Like hot pie on the windowsill.

Thick smoke billowing and curling.

I’m so hungry but I can only get an eyeful.

Look at the dew roll down the fuzz. 

Drooling, wide-eyed, fascinated.

My eyes follow it, because you dangle like a treat. 

You can look but you can’t touch.

Marvel, goo goo  eyes, spit drips down my chin.

I just want a bit,

A piece,

A taste,

The leftover juice on the rim of your lips.

I try to do something else like turn away.

But I’m so powerless and hungry.

So I ate them until I began to gag.

The peach is bitter and mushy in the center.

I think to myself the plastic peach rings might be better.

I am hollowed out in my center like the peach pit is discarded.

Take your fruit and convince you the seeds are worthless.

Mouth full of peach like a fool.

Sticky things to keep me stuck.