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FRESH

  • Writer: Erica Barreto
    Erica Barreto
  • Oct 18, 2018
  • 1 min read

Circa 2016

There’s a rush that swells your chest and suddenly you discover lust in slow motion.

My heart is ripe.

It’s ruddy

I look at you and I atomize — My heart puckers and pomegranate pulp begins to drip from my ribs.

We explore each morning

self-confessed, your words Tango about me. It’s passion tapping the earth — wonderfully exotic, curiously human

You and me.

Oh

when you feel it,

you know.


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