tonight I ate a fig
it was a deep purple colour
balancing between maroon and burgundy
and somewhere in there
a night sky velvet
streaked with green
the promise of ripening
flecked and freckled
split in half
an opening far too physical
skin tearing softly like a staggered moan
the inside
a soggy cluster of seeds
is a soft, fresh pink
with maybe a hint of something
warmer
something more sultry
a blushing, flushing red
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